


Where to Stop the Story

by futuristicjazzhands



Category: White Collar
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Bullying, Diapers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Little!Neal, Mommy!El, Neal's kind of anxious, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pacifiers, Stuffed Toys, Vomiting, daddy!Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuristicjazzhands/pseuds/futuristicjazzhands
Summary: When Peter finally catches the elusive Neal Caffrey, he's shocked to find out the man is classified as a little. He can't send him to prison. He instead makes a deal for Neal to work with the FBI as a CI and for Neal to stay with him and El so he could watch over him.





	1. Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little background info: in this world, people's classification is shown in a mark they are born with on their chest. Their subclass can be determined through blood tests.
> 
> Also just a warning, I'm not a huge fan of Kate, and in this universe, she abused Neal.

Peter couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. He’d done it. He’d caught the elusive Neal Caffrey. The only moment in his life that beat this feeling was his wedding, and he’d never tell El, but this came really close. There was nothing in the world that could make this victory anything but sweet.

  
Until Jones knocked on the door to his office and poked his head in, “Boss, you’re gonna want to see this.”

  
“What?”

  
“You probably won’t believe me without the proof.”

  
“I swear if Caffrey has pulled some shit…” Peter grumbled as he got up and followed Jones. He felt angry that he was right when he saw they were headed to the holding cells where they were keeping Caffrey. They were planning on interrogating him in an attempt to get confessions for his other crimes, but at the moment, he was having a physical to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

  
Jones brought him to the two-way mirror so he could look into the room where a doctor looked over Caffrey. Caffrey was sitting at the table with his hands cuffed to a hoop on the top of the table. His shirt was off, and the doctor was examining the dark purple bruise on his right shoulder. Peter offhandedly wondered where the bruise came from. His capture had been peaceful; the only reason the doctor was there was for procedure's sake.

  
“What?” Peter asked when Jones didn’t say anything, “He’s here, handcuffed, not running his mouth. What’s wrong?”

  
“Look closely.” Was all Jones said.

  
At first, Peter didn’t notice anything wrong. It only took a second for him to spot the classification mark on Neal’s chest, right on top of his heart. The mark was just a small circle inside of another, the mark of a little.

  
Peter sighed, “Is it fake? It could just be a trick to escape. All the documents we have on him register him as a class 3 submissive.”

  
“It’s real. I had bloodwork done just to be sure,” Jones said, handing Peter the file, “He’s a little, toddler class. I guess he forged his registration documents.”

  
“Toddler? How on earth is he… like he is? He should be in daycare, not lock up. Where’s his caregiver?” Peter asked. When he looked back through the window, he no longer saw a dangerous, wily criminal but instead saw a little boy who was all alone.

  
Jones replied, “We’ve been looking into it, but even with the new information about his class, we can’t still find anything on him. Not even school records.”

  
Peter paused, staring at Neal. He didn’t look like a little until Peter stared hard into his blue eyes. There was fear, innocence, and wonder in them. Peter felt his heart ache, and without turning, said to Jones, “I’ll talk to him.”

  
Jones called the doctor out and Peter went into the holding cell. He sat across the table from Neal and said nothing. He’d let Neal have the first word. Neal took it and said, “I guess you guys figured it out by now.”

  
“Where’s your caregiver?” Peter asked.

  
Neal shrugged, “Don’t have one.”

  
“What about Kate?”

  
Neal didn’t say anything.

  
“Come on, Neal, talk to me. Being quiet isn’t going to help you,” Peter said, talking softer now that he could see Neal’s littleness. He could feel himself slip into Daddy Mode, but he couldn’t - didn’t want to - switch it off.

  
It was silent for a long moment. Just as Peter was going to probe again, Neal avoided Peter’s gaze and mumbled, “Kate’s not a mommy.”

  
“Well, there must have been someone there to take care of you.”

  
“No.”

  
Peter opened up the file again and stared at the class, “You’re a toddler class. Seems like it would be hard for someone so little to be a criminal of your stature. Are you even potty trained?”

  
Neal blushed, his entire face heating up. He shifted slightly in his seat and turned even darker red.

  
“Neal?”

  
“I can be a big boy when I need to. ‘S hard, but if I focus, no one even guesses ‘m a little,” Neal said, his voice slowly morphing into something more childish, higher and a bit slurred.

  
“That sounds like it was really difficult for you, huh?”

  
“I was fine.”

  
“Neal, little boys don’t commit crimes all by themselves. Did Kate make you do things you didn’t want? Or was there someone else making you do these bad things?” Peter asked. He was starting to see the signs of abuse and was fighting the urge to hug the poor boy.

  
Neal still refused to make eye contact and instead stared intently the wall to his left. He said, “I did I ‘cause I wanted to. ‘M good at it.”

  
“Okay,” Peter said softly. When he saw Neal squirm uncomfortably, he was reminded of when his old girlfriend, a little, would try to hide the fact that she had wet herself. She would do that same little wiggly move, wet, cold, and itchy. Fairly certain Neal was wet, Peter said, “Let’s go back to the potty trained question. I want you to have the accommodations you need and it looks like you had a little accident, didn’t you?”

  
“I…” Neal kept his eyes on his hands that were handcuffed to the tabled, his blush coming back with its full strength, “‘M kinda wet righ’ now. 'M sorry. Didn't mean to.”

  
Peter stood up and walked around the table. He pulled at Neal’s slacks and was surprised to see a thin, white diaper. In his mind, he knew this was a little boy in front of him; of course he wore diapers. But it was hard to separate him from the man he’d been chasing for years.

  
Neal jerked away from Peter’s hands but ended up roughly tugging against his handcuffs. He bit back a whimper, but Peter heard it. He smiled gently, “I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to startle you. Can you change yourself or would you like us to get someone to do it for you?”

  
“I can do it myself,” Neal replied sullenly. 

  
Peter could see Neal trembling, but didn't say anything. Instead, he just asked, “Are you sure?”

  
Neal nodded, so Peter found an agent to take Neal to the bathroom. He found Jones looking through the mirror and told him, “How did he survive so long like this? Little need someone to take care of them, love them.”

  
“No idea, but I do know we can’t put him in prison. Legally, he’s a two-year-old. This… is unprecedented. I can’t think of a single major criminal that was a little,” Jones said.

  
Peter sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’ll talk to a judge about what we can do legally.”

  
“You know, he didn’t confess to anything, but he did identify the symbol on that business card that we couldn’t figure out. He said it’s the mark of a forger named Christian Howard. We haven’t checked it out, but we’re in the process.”

  
“Why did he even see that?”

  
“While I was talking to him, a probie came in with the file and asked me a question, and yes I already told him to never do that again. Caffrey saw the card and mentioned Howard,” Jones said.

  
“Okay, well, what’s your point?” Peter asked.

  
“Caffrey could be a resource. We could appoint him a guardian, make sure he stays out of trouble, and use him as a CI.”

  
Peter paused. It did seem like the best idea, but he’d have to run it by the judge. He nodded and said, “We’ll see how his info on Howard pans out.”

  
“Hey, uh, Peter?” Jones asked when Peter started walking away.

  
Peter stopped and turned around, “Yeah?”

  
“You and your wife are both caregivers, right?” 

  
“Jones,” Peter warned with a stern glare.

  
Jones shrugged, “I’m just saying. You’d be best qualified to keep an eye on him and don’t think I didn’t see how you were with him in there. You'd be a good daddy for him”

  
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that and maybe you can keep your job," Peter teased. He ignored the smirk on Jones' face and just kept walking back to his office. He started thinking about what Jones said and frowned. He had to admit, he was very much in Daddy Mode during his encounter with Neal. He shouldn’t want to care for a criminal, but he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the idea of being Neal’s caregiver. He instinctively wanted to take care of him, protect him, keep him close and loved.

  
Peter had fallen for the little boy.


	2. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter takes Neal home, El takes Neal shopping, and Neal has to figure out how to get used to being taken care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seemed to like this so I started writing more right away. Sorry it took so long, but I hit a little bit of writer's block. I was really torn about whether or not to give Neal a tracking anklet, but I decided against it because he never went to jail and he's just a little.

Peter looked in the rearview mirror at the sulking boy in the backseat. Ever since he had told Neal that the judge approved his request to take him in as a ward, Neal had been cranky. He hadn't exactly been bubbly before, and with reason, but he seemed more upset than someone who escaped a prison sentence should be. Despite his attempts, he hadn't been able to get Neal to talk to him. Peter frowned and, in one last try to talk to him, asked, "What's wrong, Neal?"

 

"I don't wanna go with you. I'd rather go to prison than be your damn kid," Neal said with a huff. 

 

"Watch your language, young man. And I'm not trying to make you my little. It's just that you're too little for prison. We've been over this. Prison is no place for a toddler class little. You need someone who can take care of you and make sure you stay out of trouble."

 

Neal crossed his arms sullenly and turned his gaze out the window, "I don't need anyone to take care of me. I did just fine before."

 

"Yeah, and look where you ended up," Peter replied. 

 

Neal's response came in the form of an angry sigh as he poked his bottom lip out in an adorable pout. Peter rolled his eyes, "Why don't you just give it a chance. You may end up liking it."

 

Still, Neal didn't say anything. Peter was sad to see the grumpy look on Neal's look had melted into a weary one. 

 

The rest of the car ride was in silence. When they arrived at the Burke's townhouse, Peter opened the door for Neal. Before he could say any kind of welcome, El walked in from the kitchen with a grin on her face, "Hey, welcome home."

 

"El, this is-"

 

"Hon, really? You talk nonstop about Neal for years and when I finally meet him, you try to introduce him like that?" El asked. She approached Neal but made no to touch him, "Hi, Neal. It's nice to finally make your acquaintance."

 

Neal smiled, suddenly much more reminiscent of the charming man Peter had chased for so long. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

 

El grinned back at him, and Peter felt a warmth grow inside of him. Seeing Neal and El together, for some reason, felt so right. It was like the missing puzzle piece has finally been found. El and he had always wanted a little of their own. Most caregivers that paired together usually had a little by the time they got married, but they hadn't been able to find the right one. As much as Peter didn't want to admit it, as inappropriate as it was, Peter wanted Neal to be the right one. 

 

After a second, El spotted the small bag in Neal's hand. It didn't look big enough to have more than two or three changes of clothes, and Neal was already wearing an FBI sweatshirt. She frowned and asked, "Is that all of your stuff?"

 

Neal nodded, moving the bag behind his back like he was afraid she would take it from him. He said, "The FBI took the rest."

 

El looked at Peter, and he just shrugged at her. She huffed and turned back to Neal, "I'm taking you out for a much-needed shopping trip."

 

"Oh, that's not necessary, Mrs. Burke."

 

"Of course it is. You can't live on only the contents of that tiny bag, and call me Elizabeth. Mrs. Burke makes me feel old," El replied.

 

Neal opened his mouth to protest again, but when he saw in El's eyes that her mind was set, as stubborn as her husband, he said, "Alright."

 

* * *

 

 

Neal stared longingly at the nice suits. He knew he couldn't ask El for them; they were hundreds of dollars. When El got distracted looking in the window of a jeweler store, Neal wandered into the suit store, just to browse. He ran his fingers down the sleeve of one, admiring the silky, expensive fabric. The suit he was looking at reminded him a lot of his favorite suit from before, a black three piece with a sleek, sharp look to it. 

 

Suddenly, he was pulled out of his thoughts by El grabbing his arm, "Neal! I was worried sick when I looked back and you were gone."

 

Neal fought down his panic, though he was sure El could tell she scared him. He plastered on a convincing fake smile and said, "Sorry, Elizabeth."

 

Before El could get in a word, an old woman approached, "A fine suit, isn't it?"

 

"Yeah, it is," Neal said, his smile becoming just the slightest bit genuine.

 

"You know," The woman started, "I have a closet full of suits like them. My husband used to have his clothes tailored here. Every once in a while, I come around for nostalgia's sake. I'm sure my Byron would have wanted his suits to go to someone who would admire them the way he did, the way you do. You wouldn't happen to want them, would you?"

 

Neal's eyes went wide with excitement, "Really?"

 

El frowned, "That's really kind, Ms..."

 

"Ellington. June Ellington."

 

"Ms. Ellington, but we couldn't accept such an expensive gift."

 

"Oh please, I insist. I'm just going to donate them to a thrift store if you don't take them," June said.

 

Neal looked to El with pleading eyes, "Please, Elizabeth."

 

El tried to resist the adorable puppy dog eyes, but the second she met Neal's gaze and saw his pink lip poke out in a pout, she caved. Even after just meeting him, she felt like she'd do anything to make Neal happy. She sagged and, with a sigh, said, "Alright." She turned back to June, "We really appreciate this, Ms. Ellington. Thank you."

 

"It's nothing. And please, call me June." She pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to El, "Here's my address. You can come by and pick up the suits when you finish you shopping."

 

Neal grinned, "Thank you so much!"

 

"You're welcome," June said softly, touching Neal's arm.

 

They said their goodbyes and El took Neal's hand so he wouldn't wander again, "Since we now have your work clothes out of the way, let's go to Little Anne's. It's a local little store."

 

"Okay," Neal said, an ounce of hesitancy in his voice.

 

He hoped El didn't hear it. She did, though, and stopped, "What's wrong?"

 

"I..." Neal trailed off, wondering if he could trust her. He copped out and just replied, "I don't really want to talk about it."

 

El surprised him when she just nodded and continued on her way. She didn't push him, didn't demand he answer her questions. She listened. Neal felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

 

It was a fifteen-minute drive to Little Anne's, but it was well worth the time. The store was filled with soft colors, toys of all kinds, and anything a little could need or want. There were littles and their caregivers all around, but it wasn't hectic or overwhelming; it was cozy and familiar. Neal instantly felt his headspace drop as he walked further into the store, and he was glad to have El's guiding hand around his.

 

"Let's get the essentials first. Then we can look for toys, okay?" El said. Neal didn't reply and just let El tug him to the back of the store, "You wear diapers, right?"

 

Neal blushed and nodded.

 

El didn't look at the selection of diapers long before a worker approached her, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

 

"I'm looking for diapers for him," El explain as she gestured towards Neal.

 

The worker stepped towards him, held out a tape measure and politely asked, "May I?" At Neal's nod, she knelt down and carefully wrapped the tape around his waist, then his leg and noted the measurements. She stood back up, "Looks like a size 5 adult diaper. Do you have a preference for absorbency, design, or thickness?"

 

El looked at Neal, letting him answer. Neal gave her a smile of appreciation and told the worker, "Something comfortable and thin?"  He didn't particularly like thin diapers, but he was used to them and would need them if he wanted any semblance of dignity at the FBI. 

 

"I have just the thing for you. They come in white, blue, and teddy bear pattern. Which would you like?"

 

"Teddy bears," Neal said, his face heating up. 

 

The worker smiled at him and grabbed a package from the shelf. She turned to El and asked, "Would you like me to put these up front while you shop?"

 

"That would be great, thank you."

 

They spent another half hour walking around the store and placing things in their basket. Neal felt slightly overwhelmed when he saw the basket was full of new stuff for him. He was doubly filled with guilt because he knew his headspace was an emotional burden, but now it was a financial burden too. The basket had two pacifiers, a set of red and blue sippy cups with rockets and stars on them, a soft blanket, some plastic dishware, changing supplies, and a nightlight. It was so much, and it was all so expensive. 

 

El saw Neal's frown, but interpreted it incorrectly, "I know it's not much, but Peter and I have toys and some other stuff that we had for littles we dated years ago."

 

"No," Neal said, his voice small, "I just... I'll pay you back when I can..."

 

El's face softened into a sad frown, "Oh, Neal, don't worry about stuff like that."

 

"I'm sorry," Neal mumbled, staring intently at his feet.  

 

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You let me deal with adult things, and you just be you, okay?"

 

"Okay."

 

After checking out and Neal nearly having a heart attack at the price, Neal and El were ready to go home. They made a quick stop to pick up the suits from June's house, and after a cup of tea, they were finally on their way back to the Burke's townhouse. Exhausted from such a long day, Neal dozed off in the car. It wasn't until Peter was shaking him awake that Neal had realized how tired he had been. He watched El carry in the bags from the car and mumbled, "Didn't mean to fall asleep."

 

Peter smiled, "It happens. It's pretty late. We should get you in bed."

 

Before Neal could get in a word, Peter was picking him out of the car and placing him on his hips. Neal was too tired to complain and just leaned into Peter as he was carried upstairs to his new room. He didn't even put up a fight when Peter stripped him and changed him into one of the new diapers El had bought. He smiled down at Neal and said, "I like the teddy bears."

 

That reminded Neal and he reached for his bag that was on the bed next to him. He pulled out a well-worn teddy bear and hugged it close, breathing in its scent. 

 

"Who's that little guy?"

 

Neal looked at Peter suspiciously, tightening his grip on the bear. He grumbled, "'S my bear, Danny."

 

Peter didn't touch the bear, hyper aware of how guarded Neal was suddenly. Instead, he nodded and said, "It's very nice to meet you, Danny."

 

After a pause, Neal said, "He says you too."

 

"Is Danny ready to go to bed too?"

 

Neal nodded. He pulled on his new pajamas, letting Peter help when he got his head stuck and struggled to get his legs all the way into the pants legs, When he was dressed, he climbed under the covers with Danny. He watched as Peter plugged in the new nightlight and went to the bathroom to wash one of Neal's pacifiers. He brought it back to the bedroom, "You want this while you sleep?"

 

"Please."

 

Peter poked the bulb between Neal's lips and bent down to press a kiss to Neal's forehead, "You're safe here, Neal. Things will be better from now on."

 

Neal didn't quite believe him, but the sentiment did make him feel a little better. Maybe, Neal thought as his eyes started to close, the Burkes would be different. He hoped they would because he was starting to like them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. I hope you liked it. Let me know how I did in the comments. I'm open to suggestions so feel free to tell me if there's something you'd like to see. Thanks for reading and please hit the kudos button :)


	3. Neal's First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Neal's first day working for the FBI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've gotten a few questions about my version of this universe, and there will be more explanations in future chapters, however, my story is primarily about Neal, Peter, and Elizabeth's relationships and I don't plan on doing a lot of worldbuilding or info dumping. So I figured if anyone wants to talk about the story, ask questions, I'd give you a way to contact me. If you want to talk, email me at futuristicjazzhands@gmail.com. I'll try to answer as soon as possible.

When Neal woke up, he was between his adult and child mindsets. He sat up in bed and debated taking his pacifier out of his mouth. He really wanted to keep it in because it just felt so nice and soothing, but he knew he was going to need to be at least mostly big for his first day of work at the FBI. 

Before Neal could make up his mind, Peter walked in, already dressed in a suit and ready for the day. He turned on the lights and said, "Alright, Neal, time to get you ready."

Neal pulled the pacifier out and said, "I can do it myself. Gotta be big anyways."

"I know you can, and you can get dressed by yourself, but let me change your diaper first," Peter replied, running his fingers through Neal's sleep-mussed hair affectionately.

Neal blushed and pulled away from Peter. He looked down at the blankets covering his lap, refusing to look up and meet Peter's eyes. Quietly, he murmured, "I can do that too. I did it all the time before."

"I know you did. Yesterday I noticed you aren't very good at it, so from now on, only adults change you."

"I am an adult."

"Neal, don't. You are in no way an adult. Now, come on, let me go ahead and change you," Peter said, already gathering the supplies. 

Neal pouted and huffed, crossing his arms. He grumbled, "No, I do it myself."

Peter frowned deeply and tried to hide the frustration he was starting to feel. He put on a very stern voice to tell Neal, "We don't have time for you to be a brat."

Neal froze. _"God, Neal, stop being a damn brat!"_ The words seemed to echo in his head, dark and cold and angry. 

He slowly crawled forward, to the foot of the bed and laid down so Peter could start changing him. Before Peter could react to the sudden change in attitude, Neal whispered in a voice that was young and scared, "'M sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

With a sad frown, Peter laid a hand on Neal's knee and squeezed reassuringly. Before he started to change Neal, he said, "You're okay, Neal. I will _never_ hurt you."

"Yeah," Neal replied, sounding unconvinced. 

Once Neal was changed into a fresh diaper, done properly unlike when Neal tried to do it himself, Peter left Neal to get dressed. Neal carefully readied his appearance, wearing the sharpest black suit June gave to him and a matching trilby on top of his perfectly styled hair. When he looked in the mirror he felt like Neal Caffrey, conman extraordinaire once again. 

By the time he went downstairs to eat the breakfast Elizabeth had made for him, he felt adult enough to function at the FBI. Elizabeth smiled at him when he walked into the kitchen. She offered him a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon, "Here you go, Neal."

"Thanks, Elizabeth."

"Eat up, Neal," Peter ordered, "We've got to leave soon."

Neal quietly ate his food. Now that he was feeling more grown than before, he had more confidence, but he still felt out of place. Worse than that, in the back of his mind, Neal was still expecting some kind of blow, whether verbal or physical. The fear and suspense were almost as bad as the actual thing. When he met Peter's eyes, he gave a fake, but very convincing smile before staring back down at his food. 

Without a word, Peter took Neal's plate to the sink. Neal felt his heart drop when Peter said, "We need to talk about ground rules, okay?"

Though Neal felt the weight of anxiety on his chest, he didn't miss a beat and said, "Yeah, of course."

"First of all, you don't go anywhere without me, Elizabeth, or an FBI agent under my orders. You don't lie to us, you don't drink, you do all of the chores Elizabeth assigns to you. Understood?" Peter asked.  

Neal nodded, "Understood. But... Just how many chores are we talking about?"

Peter sighed and ignored the question. He kept going, "Only an adult is allowed to change your diaper. Your bedtime will be nine o'clock, not a minute later. I don't know whether or not you suck your thumb, but it isn't allowed. We don't want you getting sick from all the germs on your hands, okay?"

"Okay. I like binkies better anyways."

"I don't expect you to be big at work all the time. I know that it's hard to get into that headspace sometimes. Whenever you feel like you need a break from being big, just come to my office. I'll have something to keep you occupied until you can be big again. And if you can't get out of your headspace, that's okay too. We'll work something out," Peter said.

"Sounds good."

"Whether you're here or at work, big or little, you'll take a nap at one o'clock. Of course, if we're in the field, we'll reschedule, but there will be a nap every afternoon." He paused and took a breath before continuing, "I'll change you at work. I realize it embarrasses you so I won't make you let any agent do it. Just me, okay?"

"Thank you," Neal said, a weight lifting off his chest. He wasn't ecstatic about Peter changing him, but it was better than having random probies do it.  

"I'm going to have to trust you, Neal, to let me know when you need a change. If you don't tell me, you'll get a rash."

"I'll tell you."

"You better," Peter said and continued with a very serious tone to his voice, "If I find out you haven't been telling me, I'll have to check your diaper myself every so often. I know you don't want that."

"I'll tell you, Peter. Promise," Neal replied, drawing an X over his heart. 

After a silent moment, just looking in Neal's eyes, Peter said, "Alright, are you ready to go?"

"Yup."

The car ride was mostly silent other than a comment or two Peter made in hope of sparking a conversation, which failed. Neal felt fine up until he stepped off the elevator. The second he walked into the office, all eyes were him. Neal held his head high as agents shot him distasteful looks and whispered quietly to each other. Inside, Neal was fighting off anxiety, but outwardly, he exuded confidence. 

Neal followed Peter into his office. Peter closed the door before sitting at his desk and saying, "Your tip about the business card led us to Christian Howard and we found more forgeries. You did good work, and now that case is closed. Unless something comes up today, it'll probably be pretty slow. There's a desk at the far end of the bullpen for you. Think you can manage on your own?"

"Of course I can."

"Glad to hear it. If Jones needs anything, I told him to go to you. Help him when he asks, alright?" 

Neal nodded and was sent to his desk. He still got scornful looks from the other agents who weren't too happy to have him sitting at a desk instead of in prison, but as the morning hours ticked by, they just started to ignore them. All of them except the agent sitting at the desk next from him. He continued to glare at Neal. Neal tried to just pay him no attention, but it didn't work.

The agent grumbled, "Can't believe they stuck you next to me. Just my damn luck."

Neal frowned, averted his eyes, and hoped that that would be the end of it. 

It was not. The agent leaned closer, a scowl on his face, and said, "You don't deserve to be here. You should be rotting in a cell."

"I... I didn't ask to be here."

"Sure. I don't believe this whole "little" thing. No little could pull off what you've done. You're a liar and a bastard. You faked it somehow to get out of jail, I know it. And I'm gonna prove it." 

Neal could feel his confidence slipping, could feel his adult self slipping. He hadn't expected to be met with open arms and wide smiles, but he had been hoping the day would be quiet. The last thing he wanted was more trouble. He was growing nervous under the agent's hateful stare. He shook his head and failed to be as smooth as he usually was, "I just... I'm just trying to... Look, I don't..."

Before Neal could stammer anymore, Jone walked up and said, "Caffrey, Peter said you're supposed to help me. Come on."

Neal almost knocked over his chair getting up so fast to follow Jones into the conference room. He let out a sigh of relief once the door was closed and he was away from that agent. He smiled at Jones and asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing, I've got it handled."

"Then why did you-"

"Morris was being an asshole. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a criminal and I'm not thrilled about you escaping punishment. But you're a person and you don't deserve to be treated like that," Jones said as he flipped through a case file. He looked up at Neal and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can I stay in here for a while, though?" Neal asked.

Jones nodded, "I'll have Peter move Morris's desk, but for now, you can stay here. Have you had lunch yet?"

Neal shook his head.

"I'll have some food sent up. After we're finished eating it'll probably be close to your nap time."

Neal blushed, "It's fine, I'm not tired."

Jones shot Neal an amused, but stern look. He shook his head and chuckled, "I don't know how Morris can't believe you're a little. You're such a little. You're taking a nap. Peter's orders."

"We'll see," Neal said with his signature smirk.  

About fifteen minutes later, Neal and Jones were eating pasta out of take-out containers and talking about the mortgage fraud case Jones had been stuck with. By the time they were done, Neal's mouth and chin were covered in red sauce. He might have been slightly more little than he had originally though. Before Jones got the chance to tell Neal to wipe off his face, Peter opened the door.

With one look at Neal, Peter chuckled softly. He grabbed a stray napkin and the back of Neal's head and wiped away the sauce from Neal's face. Neal squirmed, but Peter had a good grip on his head. When Peter finally released Neal, he pulled back and pouted at Peter.

"Are you feeling little?"

"Just a bit."

Peter set a heavy hand on the nape of Neal's neck, "Well, not a big deal. It's time for your nap."

"I'm not tired," Neal said.

Peter shrugged, "I don't care. I told you the rules this morning, and you're going to follow them." 

"But, Peter..."

"There's nothing you can say to change my mind, Neal. Let's go," Peter said, taking Neal's arm. Neal sighed and let Peter lead him into his office. A small pallet had been set up behind Peter's desk, hidden from the view of the bullpen. Neal whined softly but didn't put up a fight as Peter had him take off his jacket and tie. Once he was laying on the pallet, Peter covered him with a blanket and said, "I'll wake you in an hour. Try and get some rest, okay?"

For someone who claimed to not be tired, Neal fell asleep almost instantly. With a belly full of food and Peter just a few feet away keeping him safe, it was easy to doze off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave kudos and a comment. Thanks for reading!


	4. Too Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal's been suspiciously quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I'm still very into this story, but I have trouble with writer's block and focusing. I think I'll update again fairly soon because I have a good idea about where I want to go from here.

Peter eyed Neal carefully from across the table. Ever since he had woken up from his nap in the office, Neal had been subdued, quiet, almost timid in a way. It was unlike the smirking, suave conman he knew and the charming little boy he had recently met. It reminded him of that brief moment when he had changed him in the morning, when he had been scared and hinted at past abuse. 

At first, Peter had simply chalked it up to waking up from the nap, which could be hard for littles, or maybe he was embarrassed about sleeping in Peter’s office. But as the day continued, it got worse. He had hardly talked. Peter had to prod for his opinion on the mortgage fraud case. The car ride home had been completely silent as Neal stared out the window. 

It had Peter more worried than he cared to admit.

Now Neal was poking at his dinner idly. He hadn’t taken more than a bite or two, hadn’t said more than a couple words when El directly addressed him. It was almost unnerving that a man who could lie so easily was being so blatant about his emotions. Peter briefly entertained the thought that Neal was being intentional in it, that he was manipulating Peter, but when Elizabeth asked “I wasn’t sure if you liked fish, Neal,” Neal responded to her with carefully crafted words and a perfect smile.

After a couple minutes of watching Neal not eat his dinner, Peter cleared his throat before asking, “Neal? Are you not hungry?”

Neal looked up, and when he saw the concern in Peter’s eyes, he plastered on a radiant smile. It was like he had realized he hadn’t kept his facade up and was quickly pulling it back together. He gracefully replied with the perfect performance of sincerity and sweetness, “It’s really wonderful, Elizabeth. You’re an amazing cook. I had a big lunch, so I’m not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling okay?” El asked, motherly concern in her voice.

Neal’s smile for her brightened as he explained, “I’m okay, really. I’m just not hungry. I’m really sorry.”

Elizabeth shared a quick look with her husband before smiling gently at Neal. She reached out to place her hand on his, ignoring the flinch she felt barely spasm through his hand. Neal pretended it hadn’t happened and turned his hand over to hold hers. She squeezed it and told him, “No apology necessary. There will be plenty more where this came from.”

Neal nodded, and when Elizabeth’s attention returned to her own dinner, the smile slipped from his face. He tentatively gazed up at Peter, but when their eyes met, Neal quickly looked away. He focused intently on his food, picking at it but still not eating. 

Peter just watched for the rest of the meal as Neal prodded at his food. After dinner, they all cleaned up together in comfortable silence. Neal’s attitude didn’t change as they went about the rest of their evening, still quiet, somewhat somber. As the night progressed, as it got darker and later, Neal started to get nervous. Peter wasn’t sure what was up with him, but he was definitely worried.

It wasn’t until Peter announced that it was bedtime that Neal’s behavior changed. 

“Time to get ready for bed, Neal,” Peter announced then offered, “Do you want some help?”

Neal shook his head, making no move to get up from his spot on the loveseat. He didn’t even look up at Peter’s eyes when he murmured, “I’m not tired.”

“Too bad. You can lay in bed until you are.”

“I don’t want to,” Neal said firmly.

“Neal, this isn’t up for debate.”

“Peter–” Neal started, dozens of persuasive arguments on the tip of his silver tongue. 

Peter didn’t let him get to any on them.

“You know the rules, Neal. I’m in charge and I say it’s bedtime for little boys,” Peter said. He looked at Elizabeth for backup, but she was engrossed in her magazine. That was for the best anyways; Peter needed to lay down the law and make sure Neal knew he was going to enforce his rules.

“I’m not a little boy right now and I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Neal.” Peter warned. 

Neal finally looked up at Peter’s stern expression, and Peter could see the gears spinning in his mind as he weighed his options in this stand off. He didn’t try to hide his sullen frown when he eventually gave up and said, “Fine.”

Neal stood up, watching Peter carefully for a moment before turning to head up the stairs. When Peter followed him, Neal stopped halfway up the staircase and told him, “I don’t need any help, Peter.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but I’m going to supervise to make sure you do everything you’re supposed to,” Peter explained, laying his hand on the small of Neal’s back so he could gently push him to continue up the stairs. 

“This is unnecessary,” Neal grumbled as he made his way to the guest bathroom. 

Peter just replied with, “Humor me.”

Neal rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He changed into a clean diaper, batting at Peter’s hands when he tried to help. He continued to whine and resist when Peter adjusted the garment and the tapes while claiming, “You don’t have it secure, Neal. It has to be snug or it will leak.”

“I said I didn’t need help.” Neal glared at him, finally pulling away from him. He looked down at the diaper, and it did feel much better after Peter fixed it. Not that he’d tell Peter that. He pulled on his pajama pants to hide the diaper as he affirmed, “I’m not a baby. I don’t need your help.”

“But you do need help,” Peter retorted. He smiled when he added in a syrupy sweet voice, “You’re just a little boy, Neal.”

Neal blushed. He quickly brushed his teeth and flossed. He washed his face and brushed his hair. He looked at Peter pointedly, “There. Done. You can leave now.”

“Not so fast. Let’s get you tucked in first,” Peter said, fighting the urge to 

“I’m not–”

“You’re not tired, I know. But you’re going to lay in bed until you fall asleep like a good boy.”

Neal sighed but didn’t object when Peter followed him into the guest room – his room, now, Neal supposed – and watched him get under the covers. Peter tugged the blankets further up then tucked them around Neal’s form. He asked, “Where’s your bear?”

Neal didn’t respond, aside from an annoyed look, but when Peter found the teddy bear on the other side of the bed and placed in next to Neal he could see some of the tension and anger release from Neal. Despite the ache in his chest it caused, Peter ignored his instinct to kiss Neal’s forehead and wish him sweet dreams. It was exceedingly clear that Neal wasn’t in the mood for that, and he didn’t want to push too hard.

Instead, Peter just said, “Goodnight, Neal,” from the door. He got no reply, but he hadn’t been expecting one after how grumpy Neal had been. He went back downstairs and sat next to Elizabeth, wrapping an arm around her as he admitted, “I don’t understand him.”

“Things have changed for him quickly, hon. He’s adjusting. Just give him some time to settle in,” Elizabeth advised, right as always. When she looked up from her magazine, she could see in his eyes everything Peter was feeling. She kissed Peter’s cheek and assured him, “You’re doing great.”

“He’s certainly a handful.”

“He is, but what little isn’t?”

Peter sighed, staring at his wife for a long moment. He cupped her cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, and asked, “I know you didn’t get much time to think about this before I was bringing him home. Are you sure you’re okay with this all, El?”

Elizabeth grinned, “I’m sure. We’ve both been aching for a little since we got married.”

“Yeah, but this is isn't exactly a normal little and caregiver relationship.”

“Who says I want normal? I like Neal. And though you try to hide it, I can see that you like Neal too,” Elizabeth explained. She kissed him again, “I’m happy he’s here.”

Peter smiled at her with all the love in the word, “How’d I get so lucky to have a wife like you?”

“The luckiest,” El joked. 

A couple hours later, the two decided it was time they went to bed too. The locked the doors, turned off all of the lights, and climbed the stairs. As Elizabeth continued to the master bedroom, Peter whispered, “I’m going to check on Neal. I’ll be right there, hon.”

Elizabeth nodded, and Peter opened the door to Neal’s room as quietly as he could. He wasn’t sure if Neal was still awake or if he’d actually fallen asleep despite his claims that he wasn’t tired, but the last thing Peter expected to see when he opened the door was the bed empty and the window open. “Neal?” He called out. He hastily checked the room including the closet and the bathroom just to be sure he wasn’t jumping to conclusions, but he couldn’t find him. He was gone. 

Neal was gone. 

“Goddamnit, Neal!”


	5. Someone's In Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal is in trouble for his excursion

“I can’t do it, Moz. I can’t!” Neal ranted, pacing across the dirty tile floor of Mozzie’s safehouse like he was trying to dig a rut. “It’s all the babying, the ‘No, Neal you’re not a big boy’ thing he keeps doing, the constant fussing over this and that. ‘Poor little Neal is too small to do simple things himself.’ I hate it!”

 

Mozzie looked at Neal thoughtfully, nodding his head slowly like he was pondering a great questions. Then he said, “Now, Neal, you know I’d never be the one to approve of you spending any length of time with a fed, let alone living with one, but… If we’re sticking to the facts… You love that kind of stuff.”

 

Neal scoffed, pink blush taking his cheeks, “I do not.”

 

“Neal,” Mozzie deadpanned, one eyebrow raised, “I’ve been babysitting you for years, trust me. If anything, you crave that sort of attention and affection.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“Say whatever you need to comfort yourself, mon frere. I know the truth.”

 

Neal glared at Mozzie, his foot tapping impatiently, “Can we move off this topic?”

 

“After one more question, if you will?”

 

Shrugging, Neal motioned for him to get on with the question. Mozzie bowed slightly before starting, “I am all in for us running. In fact, I urge you to stick with this mindset of leaving all the FBI nonsense in the past so we can get back to how our lives should be...”

 

“Moz, out with it.”

 

“Alright, alright. I just want you to know, this question comes only from curiosity and not from any attempts to drive you back to the suit lair…”

 

“Moz!”

 

“Why did you really run away?”

 

Neal tilted his head in surprise at the question, taking a shocked step back. He struggled to speak for a moment, a rare case of him being speechless. Then the words tumbled out before he could properly filter them, “We’ve been over it. I’m not going to be a fed’s baby. It’s not who I am. I’m… I’m not interested in playing house anymore.”

 

“You’ve had plenty of opportunity to slip from the feds before now. Why did you wait so long?”

 

“I just… I waited for the best time. I didn’t want to be hasty.”

 

“God, I need a lot more wine. You’re in denial, friend. I don’t think it should be some fed, but you clearly want a caregiver, a real one. Now that you have one, it’s scary,” Mozzie said, gulping down the rest of his glass of wine. 

 

“What?” Neal said, “I don’t want a caregiver. I’ve gotten this far without one.”

 

“Sure you have, and you’ve been really satisfied with that, haven’t you?”

 

Neal frowned, but before he’d let himself get sucked into a dizzying introspective session, he snapped, “I’m fine without a caregiver.”

 

“...Okay... Look, you’re right. We should just drop it. I’d rather we go spend our time on a island in Europe, and now that you’ve slipped your evil, fascist warden, we can,” Mozzie said. 

 

“Right. Thank you.” Neal said, but instead of focusing on their future plans, Neal felt his mind slipping away. Why  _ had _ he waited so long to leave? There had been plenty of times he could’ve escaped from Peter and the FBI, but he had stayed. 

 

Mozzie’s voice started to go fuzzy in Neal’s mind as the other thoughts began to overwhelm his attention. Why did thinking of Peter make him feel so warm and safe? He hadn’t even felt that with Kate, and they had loved each other. Or, Neal thought they had. Neal didn’t know what was changing inside of him, but it frightened him.

 

* * *

 

Peter wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t. He had found Neal before and he would find him again. Everything was going to be okay, and Peter. Wasn’t. Panicking. Even though Neal was just a little boy, he was also a very intelligent con artist. He could handle himself. He was okay. 

 

There was already a BOLO out. He had already called Jones, and he was back at the office to see if he’d get any pings on any of Neal’s aliases. Elizabeth was driving around the neighborhood in search of him. Peter was working his own angle. They’d find Neal before sunrise.

 

It was almost two o’clock in the morning when Peter got a call. He barely paid attention to the voice on the other side of the line after he had answered tersely, “Burke,” and then went straight back to contemplating possibilities. He was singularly focused on finding Neal. 

 

Then the voice said, “Agent Burke, I think I’ve found your guy… Caffrey.”

 

“I’ll be right there. Keep a close eye on him; he’s crafty.” 

 

Peter most definitely broke multiple traffic laws as he sped over to Manhattan. He quickly found the precinct the officer had described and burst through the doors, flashing his badge. He was pointed towards the bullpen, and in the far right corner, Neal was handcuffed to a desk and wearing an officer’s jacket with the very stern looking officer who owned the jacket watching him like a vigilant guardian. 

 

When Neal met eyes with Peter, who was storming through the bullpen in a very ungraceful fashion and looking probably very manic, Neal dropped his gaze. He stared at the soft felt fabric of the pajama pants he was still wearing from when he had snuck out of his window like a rebellious teenager. The pants had little starships and planets and stars on them, so Neal just studied the pattern intently instead of allowing himself to stay aware in the situation at hand. 

 

Peter grabbed Neal’s face, searching over his face, then his body, “You aren’t hurt, are you, Neal?”

 

Neal tugged his face away, refusing to meet Peter’s gaze again and blushing bright red, “No… Just my pride.”

 

“What in hell were you thinking, Neal? Sneaking out in the middle of the damn night? You’re lucky someone found you or who knows what would’ve happened. You’ll be lucky if Hughes doesn’t slap a tracking anklet on you for this little stunt,” Peter said, his voice just barely not a shout. He was red-faced and that those lines around his eyes that meant he was really, really pissed off. 

 

Neal didn’t respond, keeping his head turned to his side. Peter sighed, “We can talk about this more at home. And, trust me, Neal, Elizabeth with have some words with you. You scared her half to death.”

 

Still, Neal remained quiet. 

 

Peter sighed heavily and turned to the officer. He thrust out his hand to shake the man’s and said, “Thank you so much, Officer…”

 

“Richards. Grant Richards. I saw him walking around East Village, and when I saw what he was wearing, I knew he was a little. I have a little girl myself, so I’d recognize a padded bottom anywhere. No little should be out at these hours or this weather. I insisted on taking him home and, well, I recognized him from the BOLO,” The officer explained. 

 

Peter processed the story and looked at Neal with a careful eyes. Neal could be impulsive, but he was smart enough not to get caught by a beat cop like an amateur. Something told Peter that Neal’s return was more his own doing than he let on. Peter tucked those thoughts away for later and instead told the officer, “I can’t thank you enough, Richards.”

 

The man smiled and nodded, “Littles can make you want to tear your hair out, but they’re worth it. Your boy here seems like a troublemaker for sure, but he’s a sweet kid, aren’t cha, Neal?” Neal smiled shyly at him but quickly went back to sulking. Richards chuckled, “We had some hot chocolate while we waited for you and got to talking. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“As long as he didn’t try to escape.”

 

“Been behaving since he got here.”

 

Peter nodded. He stared at Neal’s rosy face, but the conman was still vehemently keeping his eyes turned away from Peter. He said to Richards, “Can you uncuff him?” Richards nodded, and Peter turned his attention back to Neal, “Alright, we’re going home. You, me, and Elizabeth are going to have a discussion about the rules again.”

 

Neal looked up at Peter with sharp, angry eyes, then turned back again. Once his wrists were free, he shrugged off the jacket and handed it back to Richards without a word. He flinched when Peter put his own thick coat around Neal’s shoulders, and Peter wondered what was going through Neal’s mind, what he thought was going to happen. Softer than before, as they were leaving the precinct, Peter assured him, “No one is going to hurt you, Neal. I promise.”

 

Neal’s cold shoulder was mostly thawed by the time they were back in Brooklyn, back in the Burke townhouse, and instead of being standoffish, he was nervous and jittery. He stayed close to the front door, shaking even though he was still wrapped up in Peter’s warm coat. He didn’t have a chance to process anything before Elizabeth was down the stairs and hugging him close, “I was so worried, Neal! How could you just leave like that!?”

 

“I...” Neal returned the hug cautiously, a little confused but also enjoying the warm, tight, and loving hug. He sunk into the embrace and mumbled into her shoulder, “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I am.” 

 

Peter laid his hand on Neal’s shoulder as he and El pulled away from each other and guided him to the living room, “Neal, sit down. We need to talk.”

 

“Hon,” El started, “Can’t this wait til the morning? I want to talk about this too, but it’s late and we’re all tired.”

 

“No,” Peter shook his head. He planted his hands on his hips, resolute and determined, “We need to go ahead and address this.”

 

Elizabeth sighed, but took a seat in the chair facing the couch. She had plenty to say to Neal, but she knew her husband, and knew he’d want to take the lead, no – he’d need to. This was as much for Peter’s sake as it was for Neal’s. So she stayed silent and looked to Peter to begin. 

 

Peter took a deep breath. 

 

Then another. 

 

And one more. 

 

Then he said, “Neal, I’m going to give you one chance to explain yourself.”

 

Neal was fiddling with his fingers and biting at his lip. When Peter stepped closer, Neal flinched back. It was more pronounced than before. Neal didn’t just flinch, he recoiled back, arms flying up to cover his face. It wasn’t something either of them could pretend didn’t happen like they had before. 

 

Peter felt some of his anger drain from him. “Neal, I’m not going to hurt you. No one is. We’re just talking, okay? You don’t have to be scared.”

 

Neal dropped his hands back to his lap and nodded. He took his own deep breaths, and when Peter asked his question again, Neal finally answered, “I went to go see a friend. That’s all.”

 

“At eleven o’clock at night?”

 

“I really had to see him,” Neal offered, though he knew it wasn’t going to help him any. 

 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He was doing his best to not yell or get angry. So he was mostly calm when he said, “That’s not a good reason. It’s been a rule since day one, that you don’t go anywhere at anytime without a sanctioned chaperone. You know that, correct?”

 

“Yes, Peter.”

 

“And even though I never explicitly told you, you knew that I wouldn’t take kindly to you sneaking out of the window in the middle of the night.”

 

Neal could probably make a pretty convincing argument against that one, but he didn’t see any benefit to it at this point, so he just repeated, “Yes, Peter.”

 

Peter continued his lecture, “You could’ve been hurt, Neal. You could have gotten in much more trouble for breaking the terms of our deal. I’m still unsure if Hughes will want to put an anklet on you for this, but that’s beside the point. Anything could’ve happened to you, Neal. the rules I’ve given you are for your safety. I’m trying to look out for you, you know.”

 

“Yes, Peter,” Neal said softly.

 

“Neal, what you did tonight was reckless and stupid and thoughtless and…” Peter sighed, “I’m really disappointed in you.”

 

Neal felt his eyes grow hot at that, though he wasn’t quite sure why. 

 

“Hon?” Peter said, inviting El to take the floor. 

 

El moved from the chair to the coffee table, her knees right up against Neal’s. Gently, she cupped his face in her soft, manicured hands. She tilted his face up, frowning at the tears wobbling on his dark lashes and making his baby blue eyes seem even brighter. “I was so scared tonight. I was scared you were hurt or worse. I was scared we wouldn’t find you. Do you know that?”

 

Neal whispered, “I’m sorry…”

 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again. Ever. I care about you, Neal, and I protect the people I care about, even from themselves. So don’t scare me like this again. Understand?” She asked, and while her signals were mixed with anger and love, they made sense. 

 

It felt right. It all felt… Neal wasn’t sure but it made him feel scared and very, very young. 

 

He nodded and squeezed his eyes closed to stop the tears from falling. His voice came out cracked and broken and little when he choked out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

El pulled him close, and Neal sobbed against her shoulder. She rubbed his back and whispered soothing words as she looked up at Peter with worried eyes. Peter knelt down and squeezed Neal’s shoulder. He was surprised when Neal reached for him, still sniffling and whimpering, and his heart warmed a bit when Neal hugged onto him tightly. 

 

He held Neal, tucking his curly haired head in the crook of his neck. He cooed, “You need some rest, huh? I’ll put you to bed, buddy, but don’t think this is over. Tomorrow at work, you’re spending the first half hour in time out and spending the next hour writing lines.”

 

Neal didn’t hear him though, already succumbing to his exhaustion in Peter’s arms. Peter sighed and looked at El over Neal’s shoulder, “This is too much.”

 

El shook her head with a frown. She turned off the lamp and ushered Peter up the stairs with Neal. She sat on Neal’s bed while Peter tucked him back in. When he started sucking on his thumb, she replaced it with a pacifier. 

 

The two of them took a minute to stare at Neal’s face. It was smooth with sleep, but the light from the street spilling in through the window was reflecting off the tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. As Peter gently swiped the moisture away, El said, “He’s just testing boundaries, Peter. That’s all. He’ll settle soon enough.”

 

“I hope so, because I can’t stand this heartbreak.” 


	6. Another Day at the Office

After spending half an hour staring silently at the corner of the office and then an hour writing ‘I will not sneak out of the house’ and ‘I will not go anywhere without authorized supervision’ thirty times each, Neal was in a pretty bad mood. His hand was cramping from writing his lines and he was tired after only getting four hours of sleep. He was cranky and miserable, and he didn’t care if Peter would be upset over him drinking coffee (“That’s a big boy drink, Neal; you can’t have any”), he was going to have a cup of coffee.

 

He grabbed one of the FBI mugs from the cabinet in the kitchenette and, after checking to make sure Peter was busy in the conference room and not watching him, poured coffee into it until it was just barely not spilling over. He wanted to get as much as possible while he could. He dumped a few large spoonfuls of sugar into because he wasn’t some monster that could suffer through the bitter taste.

 

He hadn’t even taken his first sip when Agent Morris, the rude one Jones had saved him from just yesterday, approached, a scowl on his face. He glanced up and down Neal’s form as if sizing him up before sneering, “I heard about the trouble you caused last night.”

 

“I–”

 

“Figures you’d already be a burden on the FBI, on Agent Burke,” Morris said. He yanked the mug of coffee from Neal’s hand, and the scalding drink splashed up over the edge of the mug and onto Neal’s hand. Neal stifled a pained cry, shaking the coffee off his burned hand. Morris took a sip, watching Neal grab a napkin from the counter and wrap his hand in it. He poured the rest of the coffee down the sink and said in a low voice, “Scum like you don’t deserve even the crap coffee in this office. You deserve to rot in jail. Or hell. Take your pick.”

 

Neal was left gaping, his aching hand still wrapped in a coffee-stained napkin. He was struck, unable to move past the shock of what just happened. The words Morris kept repeating in his head, and one stuck out, louder and scarier and too true: Burden.

 

Neal wasn’t sure how long he was standing there before Jones walked up to him, arms out like he was approaching a startled animal. He told him, “I just Morris walking away looking real smug. What happened? Did he say something to you?”

 

Before Neal could say anything, Jones took his hand, removing the damp, browned napkin. He hissed at the red skin on the back of Neal’s fingers and knuckles. Neal tried to tug it away, saying, “It’s fine. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“This isn’t nothing,” Jones claimed, keeping hold of Neal’s hand. He took Neal elbow as well and steered him to the sink where he dunked the hand under cool running water. Neal wanted to pull it away and continue to assuage Jones’ worry, but the water did help the sting of the burn, so he left it.

 

After a minute, Jones inspected his hand again. He gave his amatuer prognosis, “It doesn’t look that bad, but I think there’s some ointment in the first aid kit that could help it heal faster.”

 

“It’s really okay, Jones. I’m fine.”

 

Jones stared at him long and hard, trying to assess how truthful Neal was being. His voice was low, hushed, when he started, “Caffrey, if Morris was bothering you again…”

 

“He wasn’t.”

 

“So your burn isn’t in any way connected to Morris?” Jones asked suspiciously.

 

Neal smiled and placated with a just a little too much charm, “It was just an accident.”

 

Jones didn’t look convinced, “Okay...”

 

“Clumsy with my coffee.”

 

Jones frowned. He wasn’t letting the issue go, not by a long shot, but he’d let Caffrey off the hook and not interrogate him any further. He did, however, have no problem saying, “I don’t think Peter would be too happy to hear you’re drinking coffee.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Jones…”

 

“I won’t tell him.” Jones said, but added, “This time.”

 

“Thanks!” Neal said with such a big smile that Jones found himself smiling too. He waited until Neal had walked off, back to his desk, then stalked over to where Morris sat at his own. He was typing on his computer, looking focused.

 

Jones sharply rapped his knuckles on the corner of the desk, startling the agent. Morris looked up at him and grinned, “Agent Jones. How can I help you?”

 

“I don’t know what your problem is, but harassing Caffrey stops. Now,” Jones said, his voice dripping with anger and authority.

 

Morris’s smile slid away, replaced by an indignant frown. He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to choose his words carefully before asking, “He says I’m harassing him?”

 

“No. I am.”

 

“I see. What do you think that I did to him?” Morris asked.

 

Jones glared at him, “Verbally bullied him. I’m pretty sure you’re to blame for the new burn he’s sporting too.”

 

Morris sat up and stared at Jones like he was crazy, “The man’s a liar and a thief.”

 

“He’s also a person who deserves basic human decency.”

 

“He’s a _criminal_ , and I don’t understand why you’re sticking up for him. He’s been around less than a week and you’re already trying to protect the felon. Don’t you want justice?”

 

That word struck a chord in Jones. Why was he on Caffrey’s side? The guy had been the bane of his existence for years while Burke chased him. But ever since they had caught him, Caffrey had been worming his way into Jones’ heart. He was charming and sweet and funny. Even Peter, who had even more reason to be wary of him, was growing to love Neal. Judging by the way he treated Neal, Jones was beginning to think Peter already loved Neal.

 

Jones snapped out of his thoughts, not ready to fully unpack that, and said, “Throwing a little boy in jail isn’t justice.”

 

Morris scoffed and asked incredulously  “You believe that garbage about him being a little? He’s a conman, and he’s conning the whole FBI now.”

 

“I oversaw his bloodwork. He’s little,” Jones said, “But that doesn’t matter. I’m telling you, stop messing with Caffrey.”

 

“Or else what? You’ll ‘deal’ with me?”

 

“No.” Jones stated with a smirk, “Agent Burke will.” He didn’t offer Morris the chance to reply, walking away feeling triumphant.

 

* * *

 

Neal had only been at his desk for ten minutes before the weight of what happened finally caught up with him. His hand still hurt and the word Morris had used, burden, was all he could think about. He was a burden on Peter, a burden on Elizabeth, a stupid little boy that no one really wanted.

 

First, tears came to Neal’s blue eyes, hot and stinging. He fought them; he wasn’t going to break down blubbering like an idiot in the middle of the FBI bullpen. But the more he struggled to stop his impending tears, the more he felt like dropping down into his headspace, which made him want to cry even more.

 

He thought about going to Peter. Even after just a few days, Neal knew that Peter was safe and secure, and he’d be okay with Peter. But then he thought about the burden, so he stayed at his desk, struggling to be as normal and useful as he could be.

 

“Neal.”

 

Neal looked up in surprise when the voice called out his name. Peter was standing in front of his desk, looking concerned. He studied Neal’s face for a moment before asking, “Are you okay?”

 

Neal nodded and grumbled, “Just feeling the effects of a very stern punishment.”

 

Peter frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth, that Neal looked so devastated because of a timeout and some lines, or if something else was going on his head. What he did know was that the look in Neal’s eyes broke Peter’s heart. He told him, “Don’t get so caught up in it. You misbehaved, but you’ve been forgiven, okay? No hard feelings?”

 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Neal replied with one of his smiles.

 

“Are you feeling little? You seem little. Do you want to play in my office?” Peter asked, and Neal struggled to hide his surprise. He thought he was suppressing his littleness or was at least hiding it well. Not well enough for Peter, apparently. If there was one person in the whole world who knew Neal down to his soul, it was Peter.

 

Neal shook his head and, in the most grown-up voice he could manage, claimed, “I’m fine here, doing my work.” It wasn’t really a lie, per se. Maybe stretching the truth a little, but he wasn’t outright lying. He had already told himself that he’d never lie to Peter, and he wasn’t going back on that.

 

Peter remained unconvinced, “C’mon. You can come sit in my office. I think Elizabeth packed some crayons and a sketchbook in my briefcase.”

 

“I said I’m fine, Peter.”

 

“And I say you’re not. I can tell that you’re at least kind of little, and even kind-of-little boys don’t do big boy work,” Peter argued.

 

“Peter–”

 

“Do you really want to do this the hard way, Neal?”

 

“I don’t need to go take a break in your office,” Neal said, showing off that bit of brattiness in him that Peter had known from the start was there.

 

Peter wondered if Neal would ever move past the “testing boundaries” stage El kept mentioning. It seemed like at every turn, Neal was resisting. He was resisting his classification, he was resisting settling in, he was resisting Peter’s attempts to bond. He just wanted to hold the little boy and feel like Neal was his. Peter knew his feelings were growing fast, but he’d always been the way. He’d known El had been _the one_ from the very moment he laid eyes on her.

 

Peter’s hands went to his hips and he leveled a very stern look at Neal. When he spoke, each word was perfectly enunciated and filled with a tone that said Peter meant business, “Neal Caffrey. I’ll give you one more chance to behave. Go to my office.”

 

Neal hesitated, and Peter prayed they wouldn’t have to continue the standoff. Then Neal, without a word, got up and trudged up the stairs to Peter’s office. Peter let out a relieved sigh before following him.

 

While Peter opened his briefcase to retrieve the sketchbook and crayons he had mentions, Neal plopped himself down in Peter’s chair. He stared out the window, taking in the New York skyline he loved so much. He was so lost in its beauty that he hadn’t even realized he was sucking his thumb until Peter pulled it away and wordlessly offered him a pacifier instead.

 

“Sorry,” Neal said with a pink blush heating his cheeks and took the pacifier in his mouth. Maybe he was more little than he thought. He took the pad and crayons from Peter as well, not meeting his eyes. He expected Peter to ask for his chair back, but Peter just sat down on the other side of the desk and went to work reading a thick file.

 

Neal smiled a small and very sincere smile to himself before flipping open the book and beginning his masterpiece. Crayons weren’t his favorite medium; no, he had a strong preference for finger paints when he was little. But Neal was more than content to cover the paper with colorful wax.

 

He drew until his fingers cramped and some of the crayons were filed down to half their original size. When he finally finished, though, he felt so much better than before, like a weight had been lifted. He beamed at Peter around his paci and exclaimed, “Look!” as he held up the drawing for Peter to see.

 

Peter did look, and he was amazed. Neal had drawn the skyline outside the window. It wasn’t perfect because Peter assumed Neal was a little less coordinated when he was in his headspace, but it was still much better than anything Peter could do. It was beautiful and dynamic and colorful and Peter felt a huge sense of pride swell in him. His boy had done that. He smiled at Neal and said, “It’s wonderful, Neal. You did such a good job. I bet you worked really, really hard on that, huh?”

 

Neal’s head bobbed quickly in affirmation and he explained, “Worked so hard. ‘S for you, Peter.”

 

“For me?”

 

“Uh huh!”

 

Peter took the paper from Neal and said, “This masterpiece will most certainly go on the fridge when we get home. Elizabeth will love seeing your beautiful work.”

 

Neal sat up straighter and asked excitedly, “‘Liz’beth’ll like it?”

 

“Absolutely,” Peter told him very seriously. He ran his hand through Neal’s hair, ruffling it affectionately. Neal would’ve hated that if he were big, would’ve complained about the time it took to style his hair in the morning. But little Neal just smiled.

 

When Neal yawned, his paci falling into his lap and bringing a sad frown to Neal’s face, Peter announced, “I think it’s a certain little boy’s naptime.”

 

Neal pouted as he pushed his paci back into his mouth, “Not me… ‘m not sleepy, Peter.”

 

“I’m sure, but how about you try anyways? Just lie down for a little while.”

 

That didn’t sound so bad to Neal. He nodded, “Just a little while…”

 

Neal didn’t mean to fall asleep. Naps are for little babies and Neal is not a baby. But he opened his eyes and recognized the weight of waking up. He groaned and looked around, not sure where he was because he was sitting and not lying on his nap spot. He was… in a car? He looked to the driver’s seat and felt a little calmer at seeing Peter.

 

Peter glanced at him, “Finally awake?”

 

“What time ‘s it?”

 

“Twenty past five,” Peter answered. He further explained, “You didn’t get enough sleep last night, so your nap went a little long. We’re going home.”

 

 _Home_ , Neal thought, _Home sounds nice._       

  



	7. Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal catches a bug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt a strong need to write little!sick!Neal so this chapter is just gratuitous sick!fic

For a couple weeks, everything seemed okay. Neal settled into the Burke home, or at least settled a little bit more than he had at first. He still tried to stay big as often as possible, but he was actually spending time little with Peter and Elizabeth as his caregivers, and he continued to find that they were really good to him. He was growing close to them; they were his friends and he was startled by how quickly and easily that title started to apply. He was startled by how quickly he was growing to love them.

 

Peter couldn’t be happier. He was closing cases with Neal during the day and taking care of him in the evening alongside his beautiful wife. They had just adopted a very sweet yellow labrador retriever that Elizabeth had named Satchmo. There was nothing more Peter could ask for; He was living his dream. 

 

But only a few weeks after coming to live with the Burkes, Neal caught a bug. He had woken up as he usually did, with Peter turning on his lights and announcing, “Up and at ‘em, Neal.” 

 

The second Neal stirred from his deep sleep, he knew he was sick. His head was pounding and his stomach was twisting and turning. He was cold and trembling, so when Peter tugged at his blankets, Neal whimpered and wrapped his fingers around the soft material, “No…”

 

“C’mon, pal, we’ve got to get you ready for work.”

 

“Feel icky,” Neal said in a soft, young voice, surprising himself by how quickly he dropped in mental age. He had gone to bed with a pacifier, but it must have fallen and gotten lost in the sheets because he couldn’t find it. It made him feel that much worse. 

 

Peter cooed and pressed the back of his hand against Neal’s forehead. Neal jerked away at the cold skin, but Peter followed him, feeling the heat of Neal’s face. He frowned and pulled away, “I think you have fever. Let me go get a thermometer.”

 

“No,” Neal cried, even though he already knew he was ill, “Don’t wanna be sick!”  

 

“I know, buddy. No one does. But with some rest and medicine and Elizabeth’s delicious soup, you’ll be back at it in no time,” Peter soothed as he went into the attached bathroom to search through the first aid kit. 

 

He returned with the thermometer and the necessary supplies to change Neal. Once again, he tugged at the blankets. Neal shook his head and curled under them, not letting Peter take his warmth and comfort away. Peter gently pulled again, “Just a couple minutes, Neal, then you can have your blankies back.”

 

Huffing, Neal relented. He was too tired and sick to put up a fight. He shivered when Peter got the blankets out of the way and pulled his pajama pants down to his ankles. He felt so awful that he wanted to cry, but Peter started shushing him and cooing as he discarded the wet diaper and cleaned Neal’s tacky skin, “You’re being such a good boy, Neal. So brave.”

 

Before he put Neal in a clean diaper, he had Neal roll over and grabbed the thermometer. When Peter started to carefully insert to the thermometer into his rectum, Neal whined, “No… Wanna use the big boy one in my mouth!”

 

“This one is more accurate and better for little ones like you,” Peter said matter-of-factly.

 

“Not a baby.”

 

“Of course you are,” Peter replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He rubbed a few soothing circles over Neal’s smooth bottom, “It’s okay. It’s almost done, buddy. Just a few seconds.”

 

The thermometer finally beeped and Peter pulled it out. He tsked and said, “A hundred and two. You’ve got a fever.”

 

Neal had known that he had a fever, but hearing it confirmed made him sniffle and whimper. He didn’t want to be sick. He wanted to go to work with Peter and catch the bad guys. He waited until Peter had his new diaper taped and then crawled back under his warm covers. Chewing on the tip of his thumb, he said, “Peter? Binky?”

 

“Oh, did you lose it?” Peter asked, patting the bed down until he found the darned pacifier hiding in the folds of the blankets. He returned to Neal’s waiting mouth before saying, “I’m going to go tell El that you’re sick. I’ll come back with some tylenol for your fever.”

 

“M’kay,” Neal murmured, already cuddling with his teddy and slipping back to sleep. 

 

When Neal woke up again, Elizabeth was walking through the door with a tray in her hands. Seeing he was awake, she gave him a sympathetic pout, “How do you feel, Neal?”

 

Neal mumbled around his pacifier, his words too garbled for Elizabeth to decipher. She just smiled at him and set the tray on the bedside table. There was a bowl of steaming soup that simultaneously looked so delicious while also stirring the nausea Neal was trying to ignore. Also on the tray was a sippy cup filled with a light pink juice and a little cup with a couple pills in it. 

 

“Do you think you could eat a little bit? I don’t want you to take your medicine on an empty stomach,” Elizabeth explained, sitting on the side of the bed and reaching out to brush Neal’s sweaty hair from his forehead as he sat up. 

 

“I dunno,” Neal whispered, “Tummy feels weird.”

 

“Aw, poor baby.”

 

Neal didn’t usually agree to being called a baby, but he nodded in agreement this one time. He was a poor baby and he needed lots and lots of care right now. As much loving and coddling as possible. So he needed both caregivers. “Where’s Peter?” 

 

Elizabeth frowned and said, “Clinton called about a big case, so Peter had to go to work, but I’m going to stay home with you today.”

 

Neal fought tears. He didn’t want Elizabeth to think he loved Peter more than her, because he didn’t, but… Peter had left.  _ Without saying goodbye _ . And that made Neal feel all squirmy and sad and made his eyes sting hot. 

 

Elizabeth continued, “How about you try a couple bites and if you can hold it down, you can eat some more? If not, we can try some rice or applesauce which will be much calmer on your tummy.” 

 

“M’kay,” Neal agreed and took out his pacifier, trying to hide how crestfallen he was. He took the spoon from the tray, but his hands shook and he could keep the soup in the spoon long enough to get it in his mouth. He pouted when El took the spoon, “I can do it…”

 

“I know you can,” Elizabeth said, “Let me help you anyways.”  

 

She fed him a few spoonfuls before putting the bowl back on the bedside table and giving him his sippy cup. He took a few tentative sips. For a brief minute, El thought he was going to keep everything down, that his illness wasn’t that bad. 

 

Then he turned green and moaned. Elizabeth was prepared and quickly set a big bowl in his lap before Neal had a chance to get sick. Neal bent over the bowl and puked. He threw up everything his tummy would give, but he wasn’t done. He continue to retch until his throat was sore and aching from the stomach acid and bile he had thrown up. 

 

When he sat back up, his face was bright red and covered in snot and tears. He wailed, “‘M sorry! ‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry!”  

 

Elizabeth’s heart ached at the sound of her boy in such distress, but her concern overrode her urge to cry, and she instead moved the bowl out of the way so she could hug Neal, “It’s okay, honey, it’s not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

Neal cried until he fell asleep, face pressed against El’s shoulder. 

 

Neal woke up again, feeling heavy and achy. His head and tummy still hurt, but so did his throat and his eyes. The lighting in the room was much different, and Neal wondered what time it was. Then he heard voices in the hallway, “I had him eat some applesauce and take some tylenol earlier, but he’d been sleeping pretty much all day.”

 

Neal frowned. He didn’t remember eating applesauce or taking any medicine.

 

Peter’s voice came next, “Has his fever gotten any worse?”

 

“No,” Elizabeth replied, “But it hasn’t gotten any better either.”

 

The rest of the conversation was really quiet and Neal was too tired and hurt to focus on it any longer. He sank into his bed and hoped he would fall asleep again, that when he woke up, he’d feel better already.

 

The door creaked as it opened and Peter walked in. He looked at Neal and smiled gently, “Hey, pal, I bet you still feeling pretty yucky, huh?”

 

Neal sniffled and rubbed at his red, watery eyes, “Very yucky. Not fair.”

 

“It’s not. Little boys don’t deserve to be sick,” Peter agreed and started rubbing his hand up and down Neal’s leg over the blanket. Neal liked that. It was warm and heavy and soothing and he wanted Peter to keep doing that forever.

 

Peter sighed, “Neal?”

 

“Hmm?” Neal hummed sleepily. 

 

“Your fever is pretty high.”

 

Neal frowned, squeezing his bear tightly, “Don’t wanna go to doctor…”

 

“I don’t either, buddy,” Peter said, and then paused, looking worried and nervous, “The tylenol isn’t working, though. So I want to try something, okay?”

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, Neal asked, “Try what?”

 

“A cool bath. Not like an ice bath or anything. Just cool enough to bring down your temperature a bit. Does that sound okay?”

 

Not really, but Neal really didn’t want to go to the doctor’s, so he nodded, “Not too cold, though.”

 

“Of course not.”

 

For the first time all day, Neal climbed out of bed. He was weak on his feet and a little dizzy, so he wobbled and stumbled forward. He would’ve fallen flat on his flushed face if Peter hadn’t been there to catch him.

 

Neal must’ve made a scared noise because Peter shushed and soothed him, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

 

Once they got to the bathroom, Peter started the tap so the bathtub would fill with lukewarm water. Neal sat on the closed toilet and focused on staying awake while Peter peeled off his sweat soaked pajamas. 

 

The second Neal's skin touched the water, he hissed and flinched away, “No, Peter, ‘s too cold! Don’t wanna!”

 

“I know, I’m sorry, but this is good for you, okay?” Peter said in the most gentle voice Neal had ever heard him use. He continued to urge Neal into the bathtub until he was finally in the bath, shivering and shaking.

 

Peter took a cup and poured water down Neal’s back, then over his head. He kept pouring even when Neal squirmed and whined. After a few minutes, Neal got restless. He was tired of being cold and he wanted to be back in his pajamas and in bed and maybe cuddling with El or Peter because they were warm. He sobbed, “Wanna stop!”

 

“It’s okay, baby, we’re almost done,” Peter said. The endearment hadn’t meant to slip out, but it felt right on Peter’s lips. He cupped Neal’s cheek, trying to feel if he was any less hot, “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re so brave.”

 

But it was too much for Neal. He was sick, tired, and cold, and he couldn’t keep up his brave face anymore. “Stop, stop, please! Daddy, I wanna stop!” Neal wailed, grabbing at Peter’s arms frantically. 

 

Peter’s heart skipped a beat when he heard what Neal called him. He didn’t have time to think about it though, because Neal was upset and scared. Peter pulled Neal up and out of the bath, grabbing a thick towel to wrap around his wet, trembling form. 

 

Neal sniffled and stepped closer to Peter so he could shared his body’s heat. He sucked on his thumb because his binky was abandoned in the bedroom. He was thankful Peter didn’t admonish him for it, because he needed the comfort. Instead, Peter just pressed a kiss his damp hair and said, “You did so good, Neal. I’m so proud of you.”

 

Neal felt a little bit warmer.

 

Peter quickly got him dressed and back into bed, where he sank into his covers and wrapped the blankets around him like he was on the verge of hypothermia. Peter was holding a thermometer and Neal whined, “Too cold for that…”

 

“It’ll only take a minute.”

 

When the thermometer finally beeped, Peter returned Neal’s clothing and he bundled right back up in his pile of blankets, shivering and teeth chattering exaggeratedly. Peter announced, “A hundred and a half. That’s better, Neal. No doctor.”

 

Neal smiled. His grin grew when El walked in. He reached out for her and she gladly pulled him into a hug, “Are you feeling a little better, sweetie?”

 

“Little bit, but might need some cuddles,” Neal said very seriously. 

 

El looked at Peter and smiled before turning back to Neal and saying, “I think we can manage that, can’t we, Peter?”

 

“Absolutely.”    


	8. Back To Normal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal's back at work after recovering from the flu, but not everything is normal

Neal’s first day back at work was an uneventful one. Peter didn’t want him in the field because he was still recovering. So Neal just sat at his desk and did whatever trivial task he was given. He did get to reach out to some of his contacts about a stolen Matisse, but most of his time was spent organizing files for Jones and being sent to get the good coffee from the vendor down the street instead of the crap made in the office. 

It irritated Neal a little; he was a man who thrived on excitement and adventure. But he didn’t complain too much because he was, if he was being honest with himself, still exhausted from his illness. Neal could use an easy day at his desk. 

The second day back, Peter insisted he stay on desk duty just a little while longer. He wanted to make sure Neal was back to a hundred percent before putting him back in the field, Peter claimed. Neal didn’t like that and made that clear to Peter, but in the end, Peter got the final say in the matter. 

Neal spent most of the day little, sitting at Peter’s desk and playing games on his computer. Being a boring grown up was bad enough when he had stuff to do. When all he could do was sit at his desk, it was unbearable. So little Neal took over to absolutely no one’s surprise. He took an extra long nap, and when he woke up, Elizabeth was there to take him home early while Peter finished working. 

On Neal’s third day back at work, Peter told him he could work on the case and look at the evidence, but he still wasn’t leaving the office to investigate any crime scenes or talk to any persons of interest. He was firm on the matter. “One more day,” he said, “Then you can go back in the field, Neal. No arguments.”

“But I’m fine,” Neal whined from his desk. He was sitting up straight, on the edge of his seat and ready to be anywhere other than the chair he had been stuck in for the last two days. He was twitchier than usual, full of energy that was itching to get out. There was nothing more that he wanted than to get out of the office. Neal was never the kind of a person to stay in one place for very long.

“What did I just say? I’m not negotiating,” Peter replied, a certain quality to his voice that blurred the lines between handler and caregiver. 

Neal pouted and said, “Peter, you’re being ridiculous. I was sick over a week ago. I wanna go in the field.” 

“Neal,” Peter warned, “Drop it.”

Neal huffed and leaned back. He crossed his arms and glared at Peter, grumbling, “Fine. Whatever.”

“You better drop the bratty attitude as well or you can bet your ass will be in that chair for the rest of the week.” Neal didn’t reply, so Peter knocked sharply on the desk and said, “Do you understand me, Neal?”

“Yes,” Neal said, still frowning. 

Peter watched him for a moment before nodding, “Alright. Come with me to the conference room. We’ve got a bank robbery to look into.”

Neal followed Peter to the conference room. Jones and a few other agents were already gathered there, looking over the casefile. Neal took his seat in the back by the window. He only half listened as Peter presented all of the information they had, so when Peter said his name, it startled him a bit. 

Once he met Peter’s eye, Peter asked, “Any thoughts?”

“I’d have to examine the vault to give my full opinion,” Neal said, fighting a smirk. 

“You have blueprints and pictures. You don’t need to leave the office,” Peter told him, tone sharp and almost a reprimand. 

“Come on, Peter! This isn’t fair!” Neal said, forgetting about the other agents in the room with them. 

Peter sighed, “We’re not having this discussion again. You can go sit in my office if you can’t behave like an adult.”

“I am an adult!” Neal shouted, convincing no one. He swept a pile of paper off the table and continued, “I’m an adult and I’m tired of being in the office. You… You’re just being an ass!”

All eyes turned to Peter. He was red, brows downturned into a fierce frown. He set the file he was holding down on the table and in a low, steady voice said, “Everybody out.”

The agents, eager to be out of the room that was filled with tension, all quickly shuffled out to return to their desks. Once it was just Peter and Neal, Peter shut the door. He took a deep breath before beginning, making sure he wasn’t too irritated to properly deal with Neal. A glance over in Neal’s direction told him that his CI wasn’t yet remorseful for his outburst.

“Neal. Do you have something you’d like to say?”

“I have a lot of things I’d like to say,” Neal said, almost sounding like his adult self for a moment before he started again, childish and stubborn once more, “You’re being mean. I can go in the field but you won’t let me ‘cause you’re a big jerk. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.” 

Peter had to take a couple more breaths. He had to stay calm if he was going to get to the root of the tantrum. He sat down in the chair adjacent to Neal’s and explained, “I’m not keeping you in the office to be mean to you. I just want to make sure you’re okay before you return to the field. You were really sick, Neal, and I don’t want you to get hurt or sick again.”

“But I’m okay,” Neal insisted. 

“Maybe, but I have to be sure. I’m responsible for you, and I take that responsibility very seriously. I promise, you’ll be back out in the field soon. You just have to be patient and let me take care of you,” Peter said. 

“It won’t be much longer?”

“One more day at most. I bet you’ll end up in the field tomorrow.”

Neal seemed calmer, placated. He took a shaky breath and nodded, “Okay…”

“Okay. Now would you like to say anything?” Peter asked.

“Hm?”

“You misbehaved. You made a mess. Used naughty language. Threw a fit when you didn’t get your way.”

“I’m sorry, Peter…”

“You understand I’ll need to punish you?” Peter asked softly. 

Neal took in a quick breath and nodded. Tears gathered in his blue eyes, making them seem brighter, bluer. A few slipped down his flushed face as he stood up on wobbling legs. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with his belt, struggling to undo it as he fought to keep is breathing somewhat normal. He almost had it off by the time Peter realized what he was doing. 

Blanching, Peter grabbed his hands, “No! No, Neal. I’m not… I wasn’t going… Neal, baby, I’m never going to hurt you like that. I meant a time out or some lines. I’m not going to spank you. Not ever, okay?”

“But… I was bad,” Neal whispered, his voice wobbling. He choked out, “I’m always so bad.”

Peter pulled him close and Neal tumbled onto his lap. Holding him tight, Peter said, “No you’re not. You’re good. You may misbehave. A lot. But you never hurt anyone, and I can tell you don’t want to. You’ve got a good heart, Neal. One of the best I’ve seen.”

For a moment, Neal was motionless and tense. 

Then he melted against Peter’s chest, sank wholeheartedly into the embrace, fingers curling around the crisp white fabric of Peter’s shirt. “I’m so sorry…”

“I’m here. It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I swear,” Peter affirmed. The intense desire to protect Neal for the rest of his life just confirmed beyond a doubt the suspicions he’d had for the last few weeks. He loved Neal Caffrey. His voice was softer, quieter, and so gentle, when he said, “Daddy’s got you.”

Neal pulled back and stared at Peter, something between hope and fear in his red-rimmed eyes. “You… want me to be your little?” He asked, his voice barely loud enough for Peter to hear the tentative question. 

Peter smiled, “Of course I do.”

“Officially?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” Neal replied, a bit too quickly. He blushed, but repeated, “Yes, please.” 

Peter snaked his hand up to cup the back of Neal’s neck and pulled him down so he could press a chaste kiss to Neal’s cheek before saying, “You’re my little boy.”

Neal couldn’t stop himself from grinning, warmth spreading all over his body. 

“But don’t think this gets you off the hook. You will spend twenty minutes in time out,” Peter said, but the happy look in his eyes betrayed the serious tone he was trying to convey. 

Still smiling, Neal nodded. He wasn’t happy to be put in a time out, but twenty minutes was nothing. He had a Daddy now, and a Mommy too if Elizabeth agreed. He could spend all day in time out and still feel like he was on top of the world. 

When Neal’s punishment was over, he stayed close to Peter for the rest of the day. Even when he slipped back into his adult headspace, he sat in Peter’s office to do his work. He just didn’t want to be far from Peter. 

It wasn’t until they were almost home, sitting in the car with the radio playing softly, that Neal came down from the emotional high he had been riding. What had pulled him down was the though of Elizabeth rejecting him. If she didn’t feel the same as Peter, maybe Peter would change his mind. They were married, a team; surely Peter would want to side with Elizabeth. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

Peter must have noticed the way Neal turned solemn because he reached over and squeezed Neal’s knee, “Are you okay?”

Neal, not trusting himself to speak, just hummed in confirmation.

“Come on. You can tell me.”

There was a long pause of silence. For a moment, Peter thought Neal was going to ignore him. Then Neal made a soft noise and asked, “What if Elizabeth doesn’t want to be my Mommy? What if she doesn’t want you to be my Daddy?” 

Peter stole a glance over to him, catching the worried furrow to Neal’s brow before returning his eyes to the road. He felt his heart break just a little. “El cares about you. She loves you. I know she’ll want to be your mommy, Neal. You don’t have to worry.” 

“Kate loves me, but she didn’t want to be my mommy. She hates that I’m a little,” Neal said in a quiet, defeated voice.

“I know this probably will hurt to hear, but if Kate loves you, she wouldn’t have run off after your arrest. She’d be here,” Peter said. He clenched his hand around the steering wheel, trying to contain his righteous fury. He didn’t have proof; he barely had any clues, but he had a gut feeling that Kate and Neal’s relationship hadn’t been healthy. He feared that it even bordered on abusive. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay. Just trust me when I say that El will be glad to be your mommy,” Peter assured him. 

They pulled up to the townhouse a few minutes later. Peter opened Neal’s door for him and offered him his hand, “You don’t have to be scared.”

Neal clung to Peter’s offered hand as they walked up the stairs and through the front door. When he saw Elizabeth walk up to greet them, he shrunk behind Peter for a brief second before he noticed the joy in El’s eyes. She kissed Peter then turned to him to hug him, “How’re you doing, baby?” 

Neal blushed and leaned into her embrace. It was warm and comfortably right and she smelled like a gentle perfume with hints of lavender. He hair brushed across his face, soft but ticklish. He let out a breath, “Better now.” 

Peter wasted no time, as was his nature. Once Elizabeth and Neal drew away from each other, he said, “Hon, how would you feel about officially adopting Neal?” 

Elizabeth looked up at him with the expression of a kid on Christmas morning. Her smile grew wider as she brought her hands to her face, “Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Yes!” Elizabeth pulled Neal in for another hug, which earned a surprised squeak from him. She exclaimed, “I’ve already felt like your mommy for weeks now, Neal. I’m so glad it’s finally true.” 

Neal looked up at her with shiny eyes, a smile on his face. His mouth opened and closed a few time, but he could find the words. He dropped his forehead against her shoulder and laughed. 

“Wow,” Peter started, “You’ve rendered Neal Caffrey speechless, hon. That’s quite a feat.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him and kissed the top of Neal’s head. As she stroked his thick brown hair, she asked, “Are you okay, Neal? Do you need a moment?” 

“‘Just a little… overwhelmed. ‘M okay.” 

“We love you,” Peter said.

El added, “So much, baby.” 

Neal couldn’t think of a time he was so happy. For that matter, neither could Peter or Elizabeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love your inputs or comments!


	9. Peter Meets Mozzie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests

“Wait, what!?”

“Moz, don’t be so dramatic,” Neal said. The words sounded like Grown Up Neal, but Neal was sitting cross-legged on the park bench (and not even caring about the nice grey slacks he had on) and had the top of his thumb hooked under his front teeth so he was at least partially little. Neal wasn’t sure why. He was usually good about being big Neal most of the time, but ever since he’d been in Peter’s custody, he had found himself being little more and more often. 

“You are totally embedding yourself in the home of a fed, Neal. Living with one is bad enough, but entering a relationship? I think it’s only fair for me to be concerned,” Mozzie said with a glare. He gestured wildly, clearly worked up. Neal giggled, liking when Mozzie got to ranting. As long as Mozzie wasn’t angry with Neal, it could look pretty funny. Though Neal tried to hide it, Mozzie heard the soft laugh. He leveled a strict look at Neal, “This isn’t a joke. That Burke is bad news.” 

“Daddy’s good,” Neal offered, looking a bit more serious, “He’s not gonna hurt me.” 

“You’re already calling him ‘Daddy’? Isn’t that a bit fast? I know you’re a little, but you don’t have to be so naive. He’s a suit for fuck’s sake,” Mozzie huffed, annoyed at but also concerned for his friend. He instantly regretted his tone when Neal looked up at him with a hurt expression. Sometimes Mozzie forgot just how little Neal could get. He moved closer and cupped Neal’s cheeks in both of his hands, saying, “I’m sorry kiddo; that was harsh.”

Neal pouted but accepted the apology. He pulled his thumb away from his mouth and picked at his fingers instead. It was striking just how different his mannerisms were when he was little as opposed to when he was big. He was so shy, so anxious when he was little. He softly said, “You’re making a big deal out of it. Littles have caregivers. And as far as caregivers go, Peter’s a good one.”

Mozzie retorted, “You’ve gotten this far without one. Kate being a quasi-caregiver only slowed you down. It just seems like an unnecessary and dangerous attachment, trusting this guy. Or his wife for that matter.”

“They make me happy,” Neal said, and there was something in his voice that Mozzie had never heard before, something peaceful. It reminded Mozzie of when Neal had first met Kate, when he had been all lovesick and cheerful. That didn’t help Mozzie feel any better about the situation.

“Neal, you know that I want you to be happy. But I also want you to be safe and out of the government’s evil clutches.” Mozzie reached out and tucked a stray lock of Neal’s chocolate brown hair behind his ear. It was affectionate and loving, and Neal relished that touch. 

Neal leaned into the touch, nuzzling Mozzie’s hand. He looked up with big blue eyes and asked, “Don’t you trust me, Moz?”

“It’s not you I distrust, it’s the federal lap dog.”

“Yeah, but I trust him. Do you trust me? My judgment?” 

“Usually? Yes,” Mozzie replied.

“Then trust me now.”

Mozzie sighed and gestured vaguely, “Okay, just… Please be careful, Neal. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. And remember if you need out of there, I have fifteen plans, and contingency plans as well. We don’t have to stay here.”

Neal didn’t meet Mozzie’s eyes when he agreed, “No need to run. I’ll be careful.” He finally looked up, but his eyes went wide when he saw a very angry looking Peter stalking through the entrance of the park. “Shit,” Neal cursed before looking up at Mozzie, “Go.”

“Hold it right there!” Peter shouted at Mozzie before he could run off. He pointed at the bench Neal was sitting on and stared Mozzie in the eyes as he enunciated, “Sit. Now.”

“You can’t keep me here. I’m a citizen. I have rights,” Mozzie argued. 

Peter glared at him, “I think our meeting is long overdue anyway. Sit down.”

Though he was eyeing Peter suspiciously and looked ready to bolt at any moment, Mozzie planted himself down next to Neal. Quickly, Neal and Mozzie exchanged glances, an apologetic one from Neal and a peeved one from Mozzie. 

Peter looked at Neal and said, “Is this what you’ve been doing on your ‘coffee runs’? I knew you were a bit too eager to run errands for the probies.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out,” Neal replied with a shrug but immediately regretted opening his mouth, especially when Peter said his name in that warning tone that meant one more comment would send him straight into a timeout. He stared down at his fingers and chewed on his lip, “Sorry.”

“We’ll talk more about it at home, young man. As for you,” Peter turned to Mozzie, “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?” Mozzie asked, puffing out his chest like a bird trying to scare away predators. It was not as intimidated as he thought. 

“I figure someone so important to Neal is going to be a part of my life from now on. I’d like to know your name,” Peter said, and though Neal knew he was in trouble, he couldn’t help but smile at the implication that he was an important part of Peter’s life. He felt really loved. 

Mozzie stared at him for a moment. “...Haversham. Dante Haversham.”

“Haversham? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes.” He looked at Neal, then back at Peter. He stood up and said, “Oh! Look at the time. I have to be going. I’ll be late for an… appointment. Au revoir, Neal. Suit.” 

“Wait a minute—“ Peter tried, but Mozzie was already on his way. 

Peter let out an annoyed sigh before turning back to Neal. He put his hands on his hips, a stance Neal was becoming all too familiar with. “Is that who you met that night you ran off?” 

Neal chewed on the top of his thumb bashfully, ducking his head. “Yes.” He couldn’t lie to Peter, especially when he was on the precipice of falling completely into his headspace. It was getting harder and harder to keep himself in the halfway space between.

“I’m assuming he has a less than clean record.” 

“More like… no record at all,” Neal replied. 

Peter sat down next to Neal. He dropped his voice down low when he said, “You didn’t have to sneak around about it.”

Neal dropped his hand into his lap and looked at Peter with an incredulous look, “You’re telling me you would’ve let me spend time with… Haversham?” 

“Under supervision…” 

Neal kept staring.

“Okay, yeah, I probably wouldn’t have let you talk with him, but that’s not an excuse. You knowingly broke the rules,” Peter said, “You lied about where you were going and met up with a criminal without supervision.”

“I never lied,” Neal defended himself, sitting up straighter and doing his best imitation of a very serious, grown-up Neal who bends rules with ease. “I always say I’m getting coffee and I do. I bring back coffee every time. I’d never lie to you.”

Peter looked at Neal with a glare that was very similar to the “bullshit” expression Neal had used earlier. He flatly asked, “Do you really think that’s going to fly, Neal?”

Neal shrugged, “Worth a try.” 

Peter shook his head, but offered Neal his hand, “Come on. When we get back to the office, you’ll sit in time out for twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes!? That’s not fair!” 

“This isn’t an isolated incident. You’re lucky I’m not giving you an hour.”

With a cross expression, Neal turned away from Peter and told him, “You’re too mean. Elizabeth wouldn’t be so harsh.”

Peter wasn’t swayed. With no hesitation, he said, “El’s not here, I am. I’m not budging. Stand up so we can go.”

Neal didn’t reply but stayed sitting on the bench. 

“Don’t push it, pal. You’re on thin ice as it is. Do you really want a longer timeout? Because that’s what this tantrum is going to get you,” Peter replied. Begrudgingly, Neal stood up, arms crossed to show Peter how he felt about this unfair treatment. Peter held his hand out further and insisted, “Hold my hand.” 

Neal turned bright red. “Peter… I don’t need to be led around like a little kid. I’m a perfectly capable adult.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Neal pouted, “You don’t have to be a dick.”

“Watch your language. And you obviously need more strict supervision. Take my hand or I’ll bring you back in cuffs,” Peter said. Only a second passed before his face softened and he sighed, “This will go smoother if you stop resisting your little side.”

Neal knew Peter was right. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of his big side completely, but he took Peter’s hand. It was a small concession, but when Peter squeezed his hand and started pulling him back to the office, Neal dropped down into his headspace despite himself. 

At the office, Peter, still holding onto Neal’s hand, took him up the stairs to his office. As he grabbed a chair for Neal’s timeout, Neal started complaining. He lamented, “Twenty minutes is way, way, way too long.”

“No whining.” Peter took Neal by his arm and sat him down in the chair, “Twenty minutes. Your time starts when you’re still and quiet.”

“C’mon!”

“Still and quiet, Neal, or it doesn’t count,” Peter reminded. He sat down at his desk, hoping to get through a least most of the mountain of paperwork on his desk by quitting time. 

With a heavy sigh, Neal relented. He was getting really sick of timeouts. Sure, he’d have less if he stopped breaking Peter’s rules, but where was the fun in that? Working for the FBI wouldn’t turn him into the kind of person that follows the rules, big or little.

When his twenty minutes were finally up, Neal couldn’t get out of his seat fast enough. Though he was little enough that it would probably be okay, he fought the urge to run to Peter for a hug and maybe a few comforting words. 

But before he could walk out and sulk at his own desk, Peter beckoned for him to come over. It wasn’t his usually two finger point that Hughes often used as well. It was open-handed, gentle, “Come here, buddy.”

Reluctantly, Neal obeyed. As soon as he was close enough, Peter stood up and pulled him into his arms. After just a brief moment of tense hesitation, Neal sank into the embrace and buried his face in Peter’s warm, sturdy shoulder. The words started spilling from his mouth before he could stop them, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m really sorry.”

Peter shushed him, bringing his hand up from its spot on Neal’s back so he could pet Neal’s chocolate brown hair instead, “I know. It’s okay. I forgive you. And… I’m sorry too.”

Neal made a soft, inquisitive noise and looked up. 

“I’m sorry you felt the need to sneak around. I want you to be happy. So we can… figure something out so you can see your friend,” Peter explained. 

“Really?” Neal asked hopefully with wide blue eyes and tiny smile

Peter nodded, “Really.”

Neal hugged tighter, “Thank you.”

“Just please try to behave. I know it’s not your nature, but try.”

Neal smiled, and Peter could see the mischief in it. He wanted to be annoyed at that, but mostly, he was just happy Neal wasn’t as anxious as he had been the last few weeks. Neal pulled away, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. Peter held Neal’s arm, keeping him close, and asked, “Do you want to sit in here? I’ve got your crayons in my desk.”

Neal shook his head, “I think I’m feeling bigger.”

“Alright.” Peter patted his head before nudging him towards the door, “Go ask Jones for some work and stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Will do, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I took so long updating, but I do have big plans for the next chapter, so hopefully, I can get it done pretty soon. Thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! You guys are awesome and inspire me to continue this fic!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Peter try to catch an art thief. Neal gets injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time, and for that I'm sorry. This whole summer has been a bust for me, in terms of writing. I haven't made any real progress on any of my projects. But I'm sure you don't want to hear me whine. Anyways, here's the new chapter. I didn't proofread because I wanted to get this out there fast, but I'll go back and edit later.

“You remember the code phrase?” Peter asked Neal as he fiddled with the clasp of the bugged watch, making sure it was perfectly secure around Neal’s wrist. With his fussing and the gentle tone of his question, he seemed more like a nervous mother than an FBI handler, but no one in the van said anything. 

 

Neal pulled his arm away from Peter and rolled his eyes. He’d move away, but the cramps quarters of the van unfortunately kept him in arm’s reach. He answered flatly, “Yes, Peter.”

 

“Tell it to me.”

 

“Really?” Neal asked with an annoyed look that could rival even the most sullen of teens.

 

“Really. I have to know you’re prepared for this, Neal. Or I could bench you if I don’t think you’re ready. Now, the phrase.” 

 

Neal begrudgingly answered, “ _ Set for life _ .”

 

“Good. Let’s walk through it once more,” Peter said, and before Neal could get a word in, Peter started explaining the plan for the tenth time that morning, “You’ll meet in the park by the fountain. He’ll be in a blue suit. As soon as you have the painting and he has the money, say the code phrase and we’ll make the arrest. If this goes sideways, say the phrase and the team will move in immediately.”

 

Neal barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Did Peter think he was stupid? He may be a little, but he was also a pretty damn good thief. Insulted, he insisted, “I get it. We’ve gone over the plan ten times in the last two hours. It’s practically engraved in my mind. I can do this, Peter.”

 

Peter frowned. Not angry or grumpy or disapproving like his frowns typically were. He almost looked scared. Neal didn’t think someone like Peter ever got truly scared, but Peter didn’t look so brave now. He squeezed Neal’s shoulder tight and put on a soft voice, one that sounded like a father and not a boss, and said, “Be careful. Okay?”

 

For a moment, Neal felt stunned. He could sometimes be a bit slow to the point when it came to relationships and emotions, but now he understood. A warmth blossomed in his chest when he realized that Peter was worried about him. For the first time since he was an actual little kid, he felt… safe. Like he had someone who was going to protect him if he needed it.

 

He wanted to hug Peter. With effort, he suppressed that urge. He needed to focus on not screwing up the case. Slapping on his perfect facsimile of a confidence, he smiled and assured both Peter and himself, “I’m gonna be fine. I can do this.”

 

“Alright. Positions, everyone.”

 

Neal grabbed the briefcase and exited the van. He took a deep breath, telling himself that an FBI operation couldn’t be that different from a con, before walking into the park. Proficient at blending in with the crowd, he got the fountain swiftly and without a problem. Patience had never been Neal’s strong suit, but he kept his cool until the suspect, a man named Paul Matthews, approached in his blue suit and a black carrying tube, presumably with the stolen painting. He did a quick visual assessment of Neal as he came close, “You got it?”

 

Neal pulled the briefcase up and asked, “You have yours?” 

 

Paul stared, like he was trying to decide if he was going to put faith in Neal or not. He hesitantly slid the strap of the carrying tube off his shoulder, “Yeah.”

 

Neal smiled, easy going and trustworthy, “Let’s make the switch.”

 

“It’s five hundred thousand?”

 

“Of course. I’ve got a reputation around here to uphold,” Neal said, hoping he could get the guy less suspicious. He didn’t want anything to get violent. Paul may have stolen the painting, but Neal understood why. The man just wanted to pay for his daughter’s cancer treatment. It was a far more noble pursuit than any job Neal ever pulled. 

 

Unfortunately Paul only seemed more wary of Neal. Frowning, he returned the carrying tube to his shoulder, “You wearing a wire?”

 

Neal didn’t let let it show how frightened that one question made him. Instead he smiled, “C’mon. I’m a criminal. Why would I be helping cops?”

 

“Exactly. You’re a criminal. Not really a trustworthy profession. Why should I believe you? Why should I believe you even have anything in that briefcase? You’re a criminal and you’re probably trying to screw me over.” 

 

“We’re both criminals here,” Neal retorted, but realizing he was being too hostile, he calmly added, “This doesn’t have to escalate, Paul. Let’s make the switch and move on.”

 

But it didn’t help. Paul was getting agitated, gazing around nervously. Paranoid, Neal thought, he was too new to this world. He looked ready to bolt or maybe something worse. His grip on the strap of the carrying tube tightened, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. With a hold that tight on it, Neal could tell that Paul wasn’t going to go through with the trade. 

 

Paul took a step back and said, “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea…”

 

Shit. the operation was practically blown. Neal decided catching the guy with the painting would have to be good enough. He said clearly, “C’mon. We do this and we’re set for life.”

 

The second the agents began to close in on them, Matthews panicked. He barreled into Neal, knocking him roughly to the ground as he tried to dart away. He didn’t get very far before Jones tackled him into the grass. 

 

Neal tried to get up off the ground, to shake off the pain and carry on with the job like Kate had taught him.  _ Soldier on _ , she’d say, and he’d try his best for her. But as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, pain burst in the back of his head. It’s was so acute, so intense, he nearly lost his vision for a moment as he held his breath, all while the commotion with Matthews went on just a few yards away. 

 

He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The person lifted Neal’s chin to get a look at him. Immediately, Neal yanked himself away to hide his face in his hands as pain shot through his eyes and into his brain. The light hurt. It hurt so bad, it’s all he could think about. Neal felt tears well up in his eyes, hot and stinging, and that helped little Neal make his appearance. He tried to push it away, but he was suddenly very little and in so much pain. Neal had no idea how to possibly fix it. Despite the urge to give in to his little side and burst into sobs, he held back his tears. 

 

Peter tried to soothe him, rubbing his arms, “C’mon, Neal. I need you to get up.” He turned and barked an order to an agent before turning back to his CI and continuing, “I know your head hurts. You probably have a concussion. The medics are going to look you over.”

 

Neal didn’t dare open his eyes, lest the sunlight hurt his eyes again, and he still refused to get off the ground. He tilted his head towards Peter and weakly demanded, “No hosp’al.”

 

Of course that was his response, Peter thought with a sigh. Desperate to pull out the adult Neal, who would be much more sensible in this situation, Peter reasoned, “You’re hurt and need medical attention. I can’t budge on this, Caffrey.”

 

Neal’s lip wobbled as he heard Peter’s serious tone. He especially didn’t like hearing Peter call him Caffrey. He was little and needed sweet, comforting nicknames like kiddo and buddy. His little side finally decided enough was enough and seized control. He sobbed loudly, pulling away from Peter. 

 

Peter reached out and grabbed Neal’s hands.He held onto them tightly as he said, “Neal, breathe. It’s okay.”

 

“Daddy…” Neal stuttered out between sobs.

 

Realizing he would be able to pull adult Neal out, Peter went into Daddy mode. He gently brushed Neal’s hair out of his face, cooing, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

 

Though Neal fought valiantly, Peter had the EMTs check him out. Neal pouted through the whole thing, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes. Peter would take that punishment any day over Neal not getting taken care of properly. But when the EMT turned to Peter and said, “Just to be safe, we’ll take him in for an MRI,” Neal tried to bolt away. 

 

Peter, as he ran off after him, realize his kid didn’t just have an aversion to hospitals; he had an intense fear. He caught Neal by the arm, yanking him backwards against Peter’s chest. Neal’s attempts to pull himself away or fight Peter were in vain. Peter was bigger and stronger, and his hold was tight. 

 

Neal wailed, “Please, Daddy. No hospital! ‘M not hurt.”

 

“Oh, Neal,” Peter sighed, leading him back to the ambulance. Neal was still wary of the EMTs and the ambulance. When the sirens started going, Neal snatched Peter’s hand and clung to it like it was his only lifeline in the world. Peter’s heart snapped, flooded with sympathy for his ward.

 

El met them at the hospital, and when she saw Neal, blood staining his crisp white collar, she ran over to him and kissed his cheek, “My poor baby. You were so brave!” 

 

Neal gave her a watery smile. He loved getting attention from Elizabeth. She made him feel all warm and loved, like his mother never did. She brought him a small piece of peace, even when the stress of being in a hospital was grating his already sensitive nerves. 

 

The nurse took him into the MRI lab, and Neal almost started crying again. The only thing that stopped the tears was the promise that Mommy and Daddy could come. The machine was loud and tight and Neal felt like all the air was being sucked out. 

 

Just as panic started to sink its claws in Neal, Peter touched Neal’s ankle, “We’re here, Neal. You’re safe, okay?”

 

“We love you, baby,” Elizabeth added. 

 

Once the scans were over, the technician pulled Neal out of the machine and Peter pulled him into a hug. He kissed Neal’s temple, praising, “You did such a good job, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”

 

Neal sunk into the embrace, letting comfort wash over him. It had been a long, hard day. Neal missed his nap due to the operation. Neal decided enough was enough and let his eyes slide shut. He needed this day to end. 

 

* * *

 

Neal woke up in his bed at home, mostly big but still very confused. On one hand, not being in the hospital delighted Neal. On the other, he felt uneasy with his loss of time. How long had he been asleep? Where was Peter? Curious and a bit anxious, Neal climbed out of bed. With a grimace, he noticed his diaper was wet. He entertained the idea of changing himself before heading downstairs. 

 

Peter made a rule against Neal changing himself. But if Neal remembered correctly, Peter said that only adults could change Neal. Seeing as he was an adult and not little, he could change himself. He tossed the used diaper into the pail before wiping himself down. The tabs were sticky and confusing; Neal was much more accustomed to pull ups. He struggled for a few minutes, but once it was on enough, he put his pajama pants back on. The diaper felt odd, too tight in places, too loose in others, but Neal knew to get help he’d have to admit breaking a rule. He couldn’t do that. He’d just have to suck it up. 

 

Downstairs, Neal found Peter and El at the table, eating breakfast. Peter spotted him first and abandoned his food to stand and grab Neal by the shoulders, “You should be resting in bed, little boy.”

 

Neal pouted at him, “I don’t remember getting here.”

 

“You fell asleep after the scans. The doctor said it was a minor injury and you’ll heal fine. No work for a few days though,” Peter explained. 

 

“Which means Mommy will be watching you tomorrow,” El said with a beaming smile. She stood up and cupped Neal’s cheek, “But for now, you’re on bed rest. Let’s get you tucked back in.”

 

Not wanting to be condemned to his room all day, Neal looked up at Peter with sad eyes and whined, “But ‘m thirsty…”

 

Peter smiled fondly and replied, “I’ll bring up a bottle of water for you.”

 

Elizabeth pushed Neal back up the stairs and he went obediently, though sullen. He whined as El settled him back under his covers, tucking him in so he snug and swaddled. She let his arms free of the blankets and asked, “Would you like a story, Neal?”

 

“No,” Neal said, turning his head. Elizabeth offered him his teddy, but he took it without a word, not even a thank you. It was childish and petty but he didn’t appreciate being put to bed after just getting up. He heard Elizabeth sigh, but ignored it. He only turned his head back when he heard Peter’s footsteps approaching. 

 

Peter handed him the baby bottle filled with cool water, and Neal readily took it. The water had been an attempted excuse to say downstairs, but Neal really had been thirsty after his long slumber. He sucked at the bottle until it was dry and his stomach was bloated. 

 

Elizabeth and Peter both left, returning downstairs. Still, Neal didn’t fall back asleep. He stared at his ceiling and just let his mind wander. Neal was sure if he fell asleep or just completely zoned out for a while, but when he felt his alertness return, his clock told him it was almost seven in the evening. 

 

For the twice time that day, he climbed out of his bed. He was just getting untangled from his sheets when the door creaked open and Peter popped his head in. He caught sight of Neal by his bed and said, “I know it’s hard being cooped up all day. El made that roast duck you like.”

 

Neal’s stomach growled at the mention of the savory, perfectly golden roasted duck Elizabeth makes. He followed Peter downstairs, mesmerized by the idea of the duck. It was all already laid out on the table. Neal almost took offense at his place being set with a plastic plate, utensils, and a sippy cup of apple juice instead of the white whine the adults were having. The duck won his favor though and he sat in his spot, ready to dig in. 

 

Peter scoffed, bemused by Neal’s eagerness, and sat down in his own seat while El tied a bib around Neal’s neck. Once she sat down, Neal wolfed down his food. Just as he expected, Elizabeth made a delicious meal. He enjoyed every bite. For the first time that day, he actually felt like his smiles were genuine. 

 

Until dessert came around. Neal took in the glorious site of El’s tiramisu. It almost looked too good to eat. He picked up his fork, preparing his taste buds for the rich sweet heaven, but a pang in his bladder stopped him. He hesitated and thought about running off to the bathroom. He’d rather eat his dessert. Plus, he knew at this point, he had little chance of making it on time anyway. 

 

He let go and flooded the diaper as he shoved a bite of tiramisu into his mouth. He got in a couple more bites before his diaper started leaking. Neal froze, remembering the awkward tabs he had sort of fastened when he changed himself. How was he going to fix this? Peter would find out he broke the rules. Neal pictured the look on Peter’s face. Anger. Disappointment. Disgust. What if Peter wouldn’t want him anymore? 

 

Neal vaguely knew he was spiraling. A distant part of him screamed out to get ahold of himself. Think realistically. Stop being such a melodramatic baby. But it was drowned out by the panic and insecurity. 

 

Neal bolted for the door, running down the street before Peter could snap of his shock and follow after him. Elizabeth ran too, but stopped at Peter chased him through an alley. Peter took a turn after Neal, but once he rounded it, Neal had disappeared. Peter barely stopped himself from punching the brick beside him. Instead he cursed, “Goddammit, Neal!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
